


Vinculum Corporis

by bisexualbellatrix (reg_slivko)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Auror Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Partners, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2018-12-18 16:49:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11878698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reg_slivko/pseuds/bisexualbellatrix
Summary: when two tropes love each other very much, they get together and have a baby.  this time, it was the auror partners trope and forced proximity trope, and this is the baby.





	1. Chapter 1

“ _Stupefy_!” “ _Expelliarmus_!” “ _Petrificus Totalus_!”  
  
Spells flew wildly around the cave, each one illuminating dark corners for a moment as they travelled through the damp air. Aurors Malfoy and Potter had been working this case since they were first partnered together 6 months ago, and it had led them to this cave which, as it turns out, was the secret base for a gang of dark wizards who had been slowly working on their plan to terrorize magical London. Fortunately, Harry and Draco had managed to get to them before they did any major damage. As Harry dashed about the cave dodging spells, a small part of his brain reflected on when they'd first started the case. There was a bit of tension when he started spending most of his time with Draco at work, but they had distracted themselves with the case to avoid awkward “catching up.” Harry had figured he knew what he needed to know about Malfoy without trying to get to know him any better: he'd been in the Prophet a few times for his charity work, he had climbed the ladder at the Ministry quickly and had a reputation as a dedicated (if a bit obsessive) Auror, and- because people really don't change much- he was still a pretentious, narcissistic, annoying git.  
  
In reality, Draco spent more time getting his work done than bothering Harry- he really was a diligent worker, to the point that total silence was much more common in their office than traded insults. Of course, Draco had a bit of a temper, and was still as pompous as ever, so if Harry ever had the audacity to not know anything, Draco was sure to loom it over him. There was an exception, though, and it was when Draco knew more about the Dark Arts than Harry did. Harry could tell Draco hated talking about it, but they both knew it was necessary. I mean, it’s not like Harry got a kick out of researching Voldemort’s supporters.  
  
Now that they had cracked the case and were (hopefully) about to silence the terrorist cell once and for all, Harry couldn't help but admit they were at least good team in the field. Not that they hadn’t argued for a few hours about how best to ambush the cave.  
  
Harry was sat behind a rock formation, and he leaned out for a moment to get a look at his options. Malfoy wasn’t too far off, firing from behind the shield of another large rock, which looked pretty damaged from Harry’s side. Just as he looked out, he saw Malfoy take down another terrorist: only two were left standing. Harry quickly hit one with _Stupefy_ , which sent him flying into a rock wall, knocked out unconscious (whoops). However, as he did, the other disarmed him, leaving Harry vulnerable. Malfoy disarmed the attacker in return, but before they could stop him, the terrorist grabbed a phial from the table behind him, which was quite small but bright pink.  
  
“Nobody move,” he said, dangling the phial. Harry strongly considered moving anyways, not phased by the fact he had a tiny potion ( _What’s he going to do, drink it and fall in love with us?_ Harry chuckled to himself). However, Malfoy shot him a pretty severe glare, so he stayed still.  
  
“Ah, you know what this is, then,” the wizard smiled, looking at Malfoy.  
  
“Obviously,” Malfoy frowned. Damn, the man really loved being sarcastic.  
  
“So you know that if I drop it, we’ll all get blown to itty bitty bits,” the wizard continued.  
  
“Again, yes. Not the brightest attempted murderer, are you?” Malfoy retorted.  
  
“Now, now, no need to be rude Mr. Malfoy,” he clicked his tongue. Harry noticed Draco’s hand tighten on his wand.  “I remember when that name had power, commanded respect. Sad to see it wasted on you,” the wizard grimaced. “Your father, though, he had a better idea. Lucius was always-”  
  
“You can keep my father’s name out of your filthy mouth,” Draco demanded through a clenched jaw.  
  
“Filthy? Defending mudbloods, running around with the enemy,” he motioned to Harry when he said that, “tarnishing sacred pureblood tradition, and you’re talking about filthy?”  
Harry was starting to get anxious. He was waiting for the right time to summon his wand (using wandless magic to summon your wand: a bit paradoxical but quite handy) so the terrorist wouldn’t see, but it hadn’t come yet, and Draco seemed intent on pissing this guy off.  
  
“You know,” the wizard continued, “sometimes I think blood traitors are even worse, because they had a chance and they wasted it. Not everyone is so lucky to be born to a proper pureblooded lineage- really, it’s ungrateful. I promise, when our mission is complete, there won’t be any room for people like y-”  
  
“ _Wingardium Leviosa_!” Draco shouted all of a sudden, lifting the phial right out of his hands and, with a flick of the wrist, flinging it towards Harry. _Fuck you too, Malfoy_ , Harry thought to himself as he jumped up to catch the phial, _if this thing explodes on my hand and kills us all, I’m requesting a transfer_.  
  
Harry just barely caught it, and by the time he’d landed, Malfoy had the final dark wizard bound and dangling by a rope from a stalactite.  
  
“I really hate meeting Dad’s old friends,” Malfoy sighed, speaking over the muffled screams of the wizard above them. Harry wanted to laugh, but he wasn’t sure it was a joke, so he just nodded instead. Harry sent out a Patronus, signalling to their backup that it was safe to enter and help round up the suspects. Harry and Draco started collecting evidence from the various cabinets strewn about the cave.  It seemed like the group had their own little collection of dark artifacts. The backup team entered a few minutes later.  
  
“Damn, looks like they put up a good fight,” Auror Withers noted as he scanned the cave.  
  
“Yeah, we could’ve used you during the action,” Harry replied, “but there was never a good time to send a patronus. Stalactites are pretty flimsy as far as cover goes.”  
  
“Stalagmites,” Draco corrected without looking back.  
  
“Huh?” Harry turned to him, but Draco continued labelling potions and putting them in his bag.  
  
“They’re stalagmites. The ones on the ceiling are stalactites.”  
  
“Oh,” Harry rolled his eyes. Did Draco always have to be right? If so, did he have to be so prattish about it?  
  
“Well, we’ll start Apparating these guys back to containment,” Withers nodded as he walked towards a groaning, half-conscious suspect strewn across the floor.  
  
“Be careful with our friend on the ceiling,” Draco smirked, “he’s an old pal. Isn’t that right?” Draco shifted his attention to the dangling terrorist, smiling up at him. He just screamed through his gag, face red from the improper blood flow of being upside down. Draco just chuckled and went back to his work.  
  
“I see, you do all that work on your charity, and then come here and get out all your pent-up sadistic energy,” Harry joked. Hermione was always blabbing about how great the Muggle-Born Reparational Fund was, but come on, _Malfoy_ founded it, so Harry was sure there was some ulterior motive- probably registering muggle-borns for some sick reason. Harry had been trying to get him to talk about it more so he could investigate, but Draco was extremely secretive (which was even more suspicious).  
  
“The Fund and the sadistic energy are both side effects of my inner desire for justice,” Draco explained, “and, of course, ridiculous amounts of money,” Draco finished, and Harry wasn’t sure whether to laugh or not. The words indicated a joke, but his tone was stern. Harry figured it was better to let Draco think his joke failed, than to laugh at Draco when he was being serious.  
  
-  
  
After most of the artefacts had been packed up for inspection and delivered to the Ministry, only a few unconscious wizards remained (they should’ve all been gone by now, but the back-up team had a penchant for smoke breaks).  
  
“Looks like we’re about done here. Want to Apparate back together?” Draco asked nonchalantly.  
  
“Er, sure,” Harry replied, a little taken aback. It’s more efficient to Apparate together when you’re both going to the same place, but he never thought Draco would just up and do it.  
  
Draco slinked an arm around Harry’s waist. Well, that certainly didn’t make it any less awkward. Just as Harry felt that swirly feeling pull on his gut, and as the cave started to spin away, he heard the sound of struggle, and saw an escaped suspect grab a wand and send a spell flying their way. Harry felt the force of it ripple through the space around them as they tumbled away into the Ministry Apparition point.  
  
Draco and Harry stood motionless as they landed.  
  
“What just happened?” Harry asked quietly.  
  
“He hexed us, just as we apparated,” Draco answered, which wasn’t exactly the answer Harry was looking for.  
  
“Did it hit us?”  
  
“I… can’t tell. I feel a bit odd,” Draco pressed his hands to his body a bit, as if it would help reveal what hex had hit (or not hit) them.  
  
“Did you hear what he said, when he cast it?” Harry asked.  
  
“Only part of it. Something _corporis_ ,” Draco began to walk away, but suddenly, he stopped. “Er, Potter?”  
  
“What is it?” Harry was starting to get nervous.  
  
“I can’t move,” Draco stepped back. “I mean, I can move, but not past this point.”  
  
Harry was speechless. What the hell kind of hex was this? Draco dashed to the left, stopping almost a few steps later, then repeated to the right. Harry followed him, and felt it too: it was like an invisible wall. Experimentally, Harry attempted to lean against it. It sort of worked, but it didn’t feel very comfortable, so he quit.  
  
“So, we’re stuck at the Apparition point?” Harry asked no one in particular. Draco didn’t reply, just kept walking around the perimeter. Harry decided there wasn’t much else to do but test it further, and when he did, Draco stepped further away.  
  
“Hey, it’s widening!” Harry exclaimed.  
  
“No, I think it’s relative to where you’re standing…” Draco stroked his chin, clearly in deep thought.  
  
“What if we step forward at the same time?” Harry postulated.  
  
They tried it. Then they tried it again. Quickly it became apparent that they could go past the perimeter if they were both moving. However, when Draco tried to run back, the limit stopped him.  
  
“It seems the perimeter is based on our relative distance to each other,” Draco observed.  
  
“Let’s keep walking then,” Harry sighed, “and go to Kingsley’s office.”  
  
After some awkward starts and re-starts to try and walk together (Draco’s legs were so much longer than Harry’s and that Type A attitude made him walk quite briskly: it was hard to keep up, and it felt like it got harder each time they tried), they reached the Minister’s office.  
  
“Minister Shacklebolt?” Draco called into the room.  
  
“Ah! Malfoy and Potter! Heard your bust went well,” Kingsley stood up to greet them, smiling.  
  
“The bust was fine,” Harry butted in, “but one of them managed to hex us at the last second.”  
  
“Oh my, are you two alright?” Kingsley asked with concern.  
  
They paused for a moment.  
  
“Er, not… we’ve been better. It seems we can’t be more than a few feet apart,” Draco explained.  
  
“I’ve… never heard of a hex that causes that before,” Kingsley pondered.  
  
“Well, it should wear off soon, right? I mean, it barely got us as we Apparated-” Harry rushed.  
  
“You were Apparating when it hit you?” Kingsley’s eyes widened.  
  
“Er, yes?” Draco answered nervously.  
  
“Oh, that’s not good,” Kingsley sighed. “Not much is known about how the magic of Apparition mixes with anything else. It’s considered highly dangerous to cast any spells while Apparating, let alone get hit by them.”  
  
“What _do_ we know about being cursed while Apparating?” Draco asked.  
  
“It doesn’t make it temporary, if that’s what you’re asking,” Kingsley frowned, shooting a look at Harry. _Excuse me for not wanting to be glued to a former Death Eater_ , Harry thought, but generously chose not to say.  
  
“You must be joking,” Draco laughed, but not in an amused way. “We’re stuck like this? For who knows how long?”  
  
“Well, maybe there’s a silver lining to all this. You two work together well in the field, but the most important work in a case is done here in the Ministry, and that’s where the most issues between you two arise. Perhaps learning to work together, even if it’s mandatory, is a chance to boost partner morale!”  
  
Harry’s jaw dropped. Kingsley was nearly _excited_ that this had happened.  
  
Harry and Draco both started to protest, but Kingsley beat them to it.  
  
“I know, it’s very inconvenient. But, it could be a lot worse.”  
  
“Like what?” Draco blurted out.  
  
“You could’ve been injured!” Kingsley replied, shocked.  
  
“We might injure each other.” Draco crossed his arms. Harry wasn’t too ecstatic to hear that, but he didn’t disagree, either.  
  
“That’s ridiculous. You two will figure this out,” Kingsley said in an attempt at a comforting voice.  
  
“How do you know that?” Harry asked.  
  
“I know because, you’re the two strongest Aurors in the department!” Kingsley smiled. “And, because you’re the two newest members of the Inquisitorial Squad investigating what this curse is and how to cure it.”  
  
Draco began massaging his temples while Harry dropped his forehead into his hand.  
  
-

  
“Leave it to Kingsley to treat a work injury with more work,” Draco grumbled on his way out of the office.  
  
“Pfft, yeah,” Harry replied. Okay, now Harry was really concerned: was that another joke? “When he said that, I rolled my eyes so hard I saw my own brain,” Harry continued.  
  
“Mm, so you’ve confirmed there is _something_ in there?” Draco said smugly. Harry frowned: same old Malfoy.  
  
“Glad to see the curse didn’t knock that stick out of your arse,” Harry shot back. Draco didn’t say anything.  
  
-  
  
After making it back to their office, with a stop by the library to grab some literature that might help with their research on this stupid curse, they found they were able to sit at their own desks… after Draco had magically moved his a few feet closer. Now their desks made an L shape, which was weirdly close for Harry’s tastes, but obviously they had no choice.  
  
Harry grabbed a book and began flipping through it, _the History of Apparition and Transportational Magics_ , and after a while, he reached into his top right drawer and grabbed some Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans to snack on while he read. After a minute, Harry noticed his chair had rolled to the right a little, but when he tried to push back it didn’t work (the wheels were always getting stuck), so he just moved his book closer, too focused on his reading to care. Then it happened again. And again. Soon, the end of Harry’s desk was pressing into his leg.  
  
“Malfoy, something’s wrong with my-” Harry began with a mouthful of Beans.  
  
“Sweet Merlin, Potter, could you be chewing any louder? I can’t hear myself think!” Draco spat.  
  
All of a sudden, Harry and his chair were pulled all the way to the end of the L.  
  
“What was that?” Draco asked, too shocked by the magical chair to stay mad about the Beans.  
  
“I don’t know,” Harry replied. He tried to push himself back, but it didn’t work.  
  
“Oh Merlin’s tit, the perimeter is shrinking,” Draco sighed, resting his head in his hands.  
  
However, when Harry pushed against the perimeter again, he was able to move back, albeit not a lot.  
  
“No, look, it’s moving again,” Harry observed, rolling around on his chair.  
  
“What?” Draco watched him, wide-eyed.  
  
“I think the perimeter changes,” Harry thought aloud.  
  
“But why? What made it shrink?” Draco questioned.  
  
“I don’t know. It’s not like anything changed, all I did was eat Bertie Bott’s-” Harry began.  
  
“I got mad at you!” Draco exclaimed. “When you were eating them, it was so bloody loud I was sure I was going to stab myself in the ears,” Draco recalled, “and then the perimeter shrank.”  
  
“So, what? Our moods impact the perimeter?” Harry asked, trying to ignore Draco’s unnecessarily detailed recollection.  
  
“No, because it didn’t get that small in Kingsley’s office, and we were both frustrated then. I think, because the spell has connected us somehow, it’s dependent on our feelings towards each other, specifically,” Draco theorized.  
  
All this talk of _us_ and _each other_ was a lot for Harry to take in. _The spell has connected us somehow_ , Harry repeated internally.  
  
“Well, that’s a major breakthrough. Good thing these chairs roll, or you’d have probably fallen onto the floor,” Draco chuckled, turning back to his book.  
  
_Why wouldn’t he want me to fall on the floor?_ Harry wondered.  
  
“Actually,” Draco added, “that would’ve been hilarious. Nevermind.”  
  
_Same old Malfoy_ , Harry thought with a smile.  
  
-  
  
“I’ve found it,” Draco stood up, shifting the book over to Harry. He pointed to a specific spell. “ _Vinculum corporis_. It bonds two people so that they stick together for a few minutes. It’s handy in battle, apparently, because those affected will be hit by any spell together.”  
  
“So, his plan was to stick us together and then _kedavra_ us both to smithereens,” Harry continued.  
  
“That’d be my guess. He probably figured that he could only get to one of us before the other would kill him,” Draco smirked a bit. Even in these trying times, might as well take a hex as a compliment.  
  
“But this says the two people are stuck together completely, and we have a little legroom. What gives?” Harry questioned.  
  
“Obviously, I don’t know yet,” Draco sighed. The words sounded like they could’ve been a traditional Malfoy rude tease, but they seemed genuine, and Harry was taken aback at his own comfort with Draco’s words.  
  
“We have to assume the Apparating is what altered it, right?” Harry theorized.  
  
“I don’t see what else it could be,” Draco shrugged. “Kingsley implied that mixing with Apparition increases of the duration of a curse. And since the original spell is only supposed to be pretty brief…”  
  
“It’s probably going to stay until we find a counter-curse,” Harry sighed.  
  
Draco looked out the window. It had been dark for a while.  
  
“Well, we’ve pretty much established we won’t find the fix tonight, and I’m afraid if I read any more my brain will melt out of my ears,” Draco yawned.  
  
“How are we going to sleep? I mean, where will we go?” Harry anxiously questioned.  
  
“If we can manage to stay friendly, we can probably share a room,” Draco replied groggily.  
  
“Well, my apartment only has the one bed,” Harry awkwardly remembered.  
  
“We can get a room at a hotel, that way there will be two beds, but close enough so we can stay inside the perimeter,” Draco suggested. “I know a place not too far from here that’s clean and cheap-ish, and the rooms are small which is actually handy, now.”  
  
_What possible reason would Draco have to know about hotels in the area?_ Harry wondered, electing not to consider possible answers.  
  
“Er, sure, but we’ll have to go by my place for an overnight bag,” Harry said with a raised eyebrow.  
  
“Of course, Potter, I’m not an animal,” Draco scoffed, “we’ll go by my place as well.”  
  
-  
  
“Welcome to my humble abode,” Harry said plainly, gesturing around the living area as he opened the door to his flat, Draco trailing behind him.  
  
“It’s… rather nice,” Draco said, sound a bit more surprised than Harry liked. It was a pretty large space, especially for an apartment, but it had a cozy feel because of all the colorful, cushy furniture. Pictures and posters adorned the walls: it would’ve been cute if it weren’t so messy.  
  
“Let me just pack a few things,” Harry said, walking to his bedroom. Draco almost forgot to follow him (the whole thing was still taking some getting used to), but fortunately their neutral emotions toward each other presently let Harry get pretty far before Draco had to move.  
  
The bedroom was quite dishevelled, and the comforter was mostly fallen off the bed. Harry dug through a pile of clothes, seemingly picking some at near random, much to Draco’s dismay. Harry slipped into the bathroom to toss random toiletries into his bag, and then they were out the door.  
  
-  
  
Draco wordlessly unlocked his apartment, getting right to work gathering his things rather than inviting Harry in (who followed him in anyways). Harry was rather surprised: nearly everything in the apartment was white, with the occasional green accent. Everything looked new, and incredibly clean, aside from the occasional antique decoration or book. Undoubtedly the most striking and obvious feature of the apartment was that the entire side facing the outside was one giant window, overlooking the edge of the city and the rolling hills behind it. Harry noticed the radio was already playing when they entered, but Draco didn’t turn it off when they came in: did he leave it on all the time?  
  
“Wow, your place is spotless. You must entertain a lot,” Harry thought out loud.  
  
“Why would you think that?” Draco asked absentmindedly, flipping through clothes in his closet.  
  
“I…” Harry began, but he never finished.  
  
Draco carefully folded his clothes, selecting a bunch of white shirts and black pants Harry couldn’t even tell apart. For good measure, Draco packed a black shirt and a green shirt, just in case.  
  
Harry was surprised at how many pillows Malfoy had on his bed. What possible reason could any man have for 20-something pillows? Were they decorative? Were they for fort-building?  
Harry looked up and realized Draco’s ceiling was charmed to look like the night sky, and he smiled fondly remembering Hogwarts. The effect wasn’t as good as the one in the Great Hall, but Harry had never seen anyone else even try to recreate the charm, so he had no right to judge.  
  
Once Malfoy was packed, they apparated together to the hotel. Harry browsed through the Prophet sitting on the table while Malfoy booked the room.  
  
Once they were inside, Harry’s heart sank, although he wasn’t sure what he had been expecting. The room was small: just the two twin-size beds, with a nightstand in between and a window on the furthest wall, and a bathroom off to the side.  
  
“Well, I guess this is actually rather convenient,” Harry said aloud even though he was talking to himself more than Draco. “Won’t have to wake the other up to go the bathroom in the middle of the night.”  
  
“Try not to get angsty in your sleep, Potter,” Draco smiled. “I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted.”  
  
“It’s certainly been a wild day,” Potter sighed, sitting down on the closest bed. Draco walked over to his bed, setting his bag on it. He pulled his pyjamas out, laid them on the bed, and started unbuttoning his shirt.  
  
Harry’s eyes widened. Was Malfoy about to change right in front of him?  
  
“Close your eyes,” Draco instructed. _Don’t have to tell me twice!_ Harry thought, shutting them tightly. He heard the sound of fabric against skin to his left. Harry tried not to listen, but there was nothing else to focus on. Soon, the sound of shoes being toed off and a belt being undone echoed through the room. Harry swallowed, but found his mouth rather dry all of a sudden.  
Harry heard the jingling of the belt fall down, and a clunk hit the floor, and he knew Draco was only in his pants now. Then, much to Harry’s horror, he heard more fabric slide: Draco slept without pants on! Harry may have felt his cock twitch, but he certainly didn’t let himself acknowledge it. Finally, he heard the sounds of silky fabric sliding off the bed’s scratchy comforter, and the pop of the band as Draco adjusted his pyjama bottoms. Harry dared to open his eyes, just in time to see a glimpse of a pale, muscular back as Draco slipped on his pyjama top and started buttoning it. The pyjamas were Slytherin green, of course, and had Draco’s initials embroidered on a front chest pocket.  
  
“Aren’t you going to get in pyjamas?” Draco asked without looking back.  
  
“Oh, I, er, don’t really…” Harry trailed off, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. Draco spun back, eyes wide.  
  
“You don’t wear nightclothes?” Draco was turning a little red. It looked good with the green.  
  
“Not usually, no,” Harry blushed. Draco just shook his head and turned back to his bag, putting his old clothes back in. Harry slipped off his shirt, shoes, and jeans rather quickly, hoping to hop into bed before he made Draco uncomfortable with his just-wearing-pants-ness. By the time he was done, Draco had slipped under the covers and turned away.  
  
“Goodnight, Potter,” Draco stated plainly.  
  
“Goodnight, Malfoy,” Harry returned, flicking off the light and setting his glasses on the nightstand.  
  
The freedom felt good. Not having someone breathing down his neck, being able to roll around in bed without hitting an invisible wall, it was nice. For the first few minutes. But listening to Draco breathe peacefully as he slept, Harry found himself almost… missing the feeling of being that close to someone. Working together, researching the curse, testing its limits, Harry had felt like his relationship with Draco had grown tenfold more in the past day than it had in these few months of being partners. I mean sure, it had come with its share of frustrations (and then some), but it felt satisfying in its own way. But another part of Harry was rapidly growing in its need to be satisfied: Harry had a bit of a bad habit of getting himself before bed, and he needed to wank or he probably wouldn’t be able to sleep. Looking over at Draco to make sure he was still sound asleep, Harry delicately reached down and touched his cock. It was already half-hard, as it had been for a while ( _since Draco changed clothes_ , a voice in his head very annoyingly added), and it perked at Harry’s touch. He closed his eyes, taking it into his hand and giving it a proper stroke. Once he reached full hardness, he heard his breathing get louder, and looked back at Draco again to make sure he hadn’t awoken. Looking at Draco made his cock twitch, a fact he elected to ignore as he continued, reaching down to fondle his balls. A nearly-silent whimper emerged, and Harry realized he hadn’t looked away from Draco. And yet, for some reason, he still didn’t look away. He continued to stroke himself, watching Draco’s slender form rise and fall with his steady breaths. Before he knew it, his orgasm was tumbling out of him, and he managed to restrain himself to only letting a sigh escape.  
  
Harry didn’t remember closing his eyes or looking away from Draco, but when he woke up, sunlight was streaming into the room and Draco was brushing his teeth in the bathroom.


	2. Chapter 2

“Morning, sunshine,” Draco mumbled through a mouth full of toothbrush. Harry was totally dumbfounded as to how to respond to that but fortunately, he didn’t have to.  
“Kingsley owled,” Draco continued, “he said we don’t have to come in or anything if we don’t want to.”  
“Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but why would he do that?” Harry asked, his voice cracking from sleep.  
“What in Merlin’s name are you talking about?” Draco looked at him like he’d said complete gibberish, of course, because to Draco he had.  
“Er, it’s a Muggle saying- it means not to question something you should be appreciating,” Harry explained. He hesitated a bit before he said “Muggle,” half-expecting Draco to grimace or say something rude. He didn’t, though, he just shrugged.  
“Well, to answer your question, he thinks we can research it from here, and he’s assigned a few Juniors to researching it as well,” Draco replied, styling his hair.  
“Yeah, because we all know Juniors are efficient and effective workers,” Harry groaned sarcastically.  
“We were all Juniors once,” Draco defended.  
“Not you! Didn’t you get expedited after a few months?” Harry realized it came out a bit more accusational than he intended. Draco winced slightly.  
“I can assure you that I earned that,” Draco emphasized his statement with a semi-stern finger point, “contrary to popular belief.”  
“No, I didn’t mean-” Harry began, but sighed and started over. “I’m sure you earned it.”  
“You’re just surprised that you didn’t?” Draco followed. Harry swallowed: was Draco reading his mind or something?  
“Er, no, I-” Harry started.  
“I get it,” Draco said as he walked back past the bathroom and towards his bag. “A lot of what I got before was about knowing the right people. After the war, they fought to keep me down, gave me useless work and hid me behind more… _popular_ recruits,” Draco reminisced, shooting Harry a little glance at that last bit. Draco started unbuttoning his pyjama top. Harry’s eyes went wide, before finally remembering he should close his eyes.  
“Theoretically, if you’re the best, they’ll have to respect you,” Draco continued, his voice failing to drown out the sounds of him changing clothes, much to Harry’s chagrin. “I wouldn’t say they all respect me, but they let me do my job, which is the least I can ask for,” Draco sighed.  
Harry felt embarrassed, not just from hearing Draco slide on his trousers, but from realizing how much he underestimated Draco. He knew Draco lost practically all of his influence, but he failed to consider how people would treat him differently. Harry forced himself to remember that Draco deserved it, but he couldn’t make himself really believe it. All Harry could think about was Draco up all night working cases, resting his head in his hands, reading the same things over and over, sighing with exhaustion, leaning back in his chair and loosening his tie…  
Okay, maybe the knowledge that Draco was shirtless next to him was mixing with the sympathy for Draco’s tireless efforts to become the greatest Auror of all time.  
“You can open your eyes now,” Draco laughed. “You look ridiculous when you do that. You squeeze your eyes shut so hard, it looks exhausting.”  
Harry blushed. Draco had looked at his face while he was changing? Since when? For how long? Did he see Harry turn as red as a Fireball?  
“Are people really disrespectful to you, still?” Harry asked innocently.  
“Not when you’re around, not that you would have noticed if they did,” Draco grumbled. Harry frowned.  
~  
Draco made tea while Harry started working on a new book; “Says here binding curses are usually cured with potions, rather than a counter-curse,” Harry noted.  
“I think that only applies to emotional and mental binds,” Draco replied, setting the tea down.  
“Hmm.” Harry slouched. He felt like he hadn’t gotten much work done on trying to cure them.  
They managed to work silently for a while, which Harry found weirdly unsettling. He kept looking up at Draco, who didn’t react, and something about sitting across a table from each other reading felt so wrong to Harry.  
“Done gawking, Potter?” Draco asked without looking away from his book. Harry blushed.  
“Sorry, I guess I’m just bored. Can’t we take a break?” Harry suggested.  
“The longer we break, the longer we’re stuck like this. Didn’t you ever learn any maths?” Draco mocked. Harry frowned, feeling himself sit a little more forward in his chair.  
“I was just trying to make this slightly more enjoyable, no need to get all worked up,” Harry scoffed.  
“I’m not worked up,” Draco frowned, looking up from his book finally, “I just actually want to fix this. Between your desire to quit and the snail’s pace at which you’re going through your stack of books, I’d almost think you don’t even care!”  
A tug brought Harry’s body further off his chair until the table pressed into his chest.  
“Of course I care, you git! You’re the one who makes every little thing into an ordeal, so we waste time arguing!”  
“Oh sure, and during this time I’ve spent requesting you take this seriously, how far would you have gotten? Just finished re-reading the same sentence for the fifth time so you can finally get it through your thick skull?” Draco spat.  
Harry was shoved into the table so hard that his breaths became shallow.  
“You little shit,” Harry managed to get out before the force of the perimeter finally pushed him out of his chair and sent him flying across the table, crashing into Malfoy.  
“My god, you’re heavy,” Malfoy groaned as he shoved Harry off of him, “lay off the Every Flavour Beans would you?”  
Harry only grunted: he’d smacked his head and was still recovering.  
“Merlin, are you hurt?” Malfoy asked and Harry was sure the genuine concern was just a figment of his concussed imagination.  
Draco pulled them both up and Harry was thankfully able to stand without much help. His head cleared and as his senses came back to him, he registered Draco’s hands resting on his arms, and how close they were standing to each other. Draco was holding him and he had no idea what to do about it. Draco's neck was at Harry's eye level, and he examined it carefully. Draco was so pale that Harry could see his veins. Harry hadn't even noticed that his hands were on Draco's chest. Harry’s hands betrayed his brain and began lightly tracing along Draco’s shoulders. Draco’s eyes watched Harry calmly, and his voice was soft and wavered a bit as he spoke.  
“Is everything alright?” Draco asked. Harry felt an unstoppable urge to spill everything, and much to his own shock, he did.  
“It’s just… when you’re gone,” Harry began. “When you’re further away,” he corrected, “I miss you. Sort of, it’s- I’m not sure.”  
“I think I know what you mean,” Draco replied, sounding a bit hesitant. “Even when the perimeter is wide, it feels-”  
“It feels like we should be close, even if we don’t have to be,” Harry finished. Draco smiled. Not a smirk, not a devilish grin (although Harry liked those in their own way), a proper, sweet smile. And Harry finally understood the phrase “heart melted,” which previously had always struck him as odd, and made him think of a glob of cheese melting or something. Now, that phrase would make him think of this moment, this feeling of togetherness with Draco.  
_Oh my god this is_ Draco, Harry thought all of a sudden, willing himself to pull away. For reasons totally unrelated to the curse, he couldn’t, but Draco still saw the fear in his face.  
“What’s wrong?” Draco asked, a bit terrified of the answer. Part of him had wanted to ignore it, but he knew somewhere deep down that he needed Harry to be okay.  
“I… I guess I can’t believe this is happening,” Harry smiled a little bit, and Draco breathed a sigh a relief.  
“Yeah, me either,” Draco almost laughed, reaching up to brush a wayward strand of hair out of Harry’s eyes. Harry looked up at him, and Draco choked.  
“What… what _is_ happening, exactly?” Harry asked, voice quivering, hands unsteady, but eyes sure and strong as they stared into Draco’s.  
Draco considered saying “this,” but thought it too cheesy, so he failed to say anything before placing a delicate hand under Harry’s chin and kissing him. Harry’s eyes fluttered shut, and he didn’t even notice that he was wrapping his arms around Draco’s neck as he did it. The kiss went from delicate and hesitant to deep and intimate rather quickly, but stayed gentle and slow, too, which was a bit unlike anything Harry had experienced before. Draco wasn’t sure he could remember the last time he kissed like this. Draco had always thought of kissing as a means to an end, a way to communicate: you kiss someone because you want to sleep with them, right? Because you’re drunk and they kiss you and you decide kissing back would be tolerable? Well, Draco was quickly realizing he was wrong, a general theme of his young adulthood it seemed. And, continuing with the theme, he wished he had realized he was wrong sooner. Draco pulled Harry closer, wrapping his arms around his waist. Being able to hear and feel the tiny moan Harry let out in response was an unexpected but greatly welcomed bonus. Draco delicately explored Harry’s mouth: it was soft, of course, and wet, and tasted undeniably Harry, a taste Draco was sure couldn’t be found anywhere else.  
Neither of them kept track of how long they were kissing. It just kept going, and Draco kept waiting for the moment where one of them would demand more, but it never came.  
After some amount of time, Harry pulled away.  
“Malfoy, maybe we should talk.” He hated to say it but he knew it was true, and the longer they kissed the harder it became to fight away those “what the hell are you doing” thoughts.  
“Maybe we should get back to work, and talk later,” Draco modified. Harry nodded, figuring that would give him some much-needed time to consider what exactly he would say when they talked.  
As they worked, Harry waited for when Draco would indicate it was time to have The Talk. But it never came. Harry watched the shadows move on the wall and the light from the window turn from white to yellow to orange, until Malfoy decided to go get ready for bed. Harry followed suit disappointedly, but was still too afraid to mention the conversation they were supposed to have. Perhaps Malfoy forgetting they needed to talk about… something, was actually a bullet dodged.  
Harry finished getting ready and sat down on his bed. Draco, of course, took longer to get ready (who knew an adult man needed so many skin serums?) and Harry’s heart sank a bit as Draco approached his own bed.  
“Y-you can sleep in my bed,” Harry blurted, “I mean, if you want to.”  
Draco smiled. “That would be nice.”  
Truth was, Draco hated sleeping alone. Of course, he usually had a different method for getting someone in his bed, but he almost liked this better. Not that he didn’t love sex, and certainly not that he didn’t love the idea of sex with Potter, but crawling into the bed next to him felt so right on its own. Harry smiled sweetly and Draco laid next to him, and it took a little awkward maneuvering, but soon Harry was spooning Draco. It was all a little too wholesome for Draco’s sensibilities: Harry’s face pressed between his shoulder blades (yes, Harry was that much shorter than him, and Draco lived for it), Harry’s arms wrapped around his waist, Harry’s toes wiggling against the back of his feet… Draco found himself unable to stop smiling at the sensation of it.  
“Goodnight, Malfoy,” came Harry’s sleepy voice from behind him.  
“Goodnight, Potter,” Draco replied contentedly.  
~  
“ _Malfoy…_ ”  
Draco stirred, waking up slowly. It wouldn’t be until later that he would realize it was the first time in years that he hadn’t startled awake.  
Draco blinked groggily, examining his surroundings. It was still dark, and he could barely see, but he could feel Harry pressed against his side, sitting up slightly.  
“What is it?” Draco asked, surprised he wasn’t more annoyed to have been awakened.  
“Er, I just…” Harry whispered again. Draco was about to ask if Harry had a reason for waking him up when he felt lips pressed against his own. Draco smiled against them, reaching up to bury a hand in that mess of ridiculous hair. After a few seconds, Harry pulled away.  
“Was that all?” Draco asked, raising a brow (not that anyone could tell in the dark).  
“No,” Harry began, but paused.  
“...Well?” Draco asked, not impatient but curious.  
Harry leaned in, leaving small kisses on the side of Draco’s face. When he reached Draco’s ear, he bit it ever so softly, and whispered,  
“I want to be inside you.”  
Draco shivered.  
“ _Oh_.”  
Draco leaned back, looking at Harry’s face for a moment (able to see a bit better than before), and pulling him into another kiss. This one was more intense than the others, fraught with anticipation. Harry shifted, climbing between Malfoy’s legs. This feeling of the need to be close was consuming them, and soon they were going to be as physically close as two people can possibly be, the thought of which made Draco all shaky and weak (in a very good way).  
Harry began slowly grinding himself against Draco, using one hand to hold himself up and the other to explore Draco’s body. Harry shifted the kiss down, sucking and licking slowly on Draco’s neck and jaw. Draco whined, unintentionally, as he wrapped his arms around Harry, feeling the bumps of his spine underneath his soft brown skin.  
“Harry, oh fuck, please make love to me,” Draco crooned between heavy breaths. He felt Harry sigh against his neck, leaning down further to kiss Draco’s shoulder.  
“I will,” Harry said hesitantly, “it’s just that… I haven’t-” Harry’s nervousness started to make Draco a bit nervous, “I’ve never, er-”  
“You’ve… never been with a guy?” Draco prompted.  
“Well, yeah, but, my main issue is just that I’ve never,” Harry took a quick breath, preparing himself, “I’ve never been with anybody.”  
Draco’s eyes got a bit wide at that, and he hoped Harry couldn’t see.  
“Oh, er, that’s fine, it’s not like it’s difficult or anything,” Draco chuckled softly, hoping it came off the right way.  
“It weirds you out, doesn't it,” Harry sighed.  
“No, it's actually sweet if I'm being honest,” Draco said in spite of himself. _Merlin's robes, I'm being honest_ , Draco realized all of a sudden.  
“I'm a bit surprised, though, I mean, it's _you_. I figured you'd have enough of anything you wanted…” Draco trailed off.  
“The people were willing, but I guess I just… wanted a little more,” Harry explained. When Draco didn't say anything, Harry continued: “I suppose I was waiting for the right person.”  
Draco wasn't used to being speechless. It reminded him a little of when Harry asked him why he didn't identify him at the Manor all those years ago. Of course, this time Draco had a very different solution to being speechless: he placed a hand softly on the side of Harry's face and kissed him. Draco's stomach was spinning at the implication that he was the “right person” for Harry Potter.  
Draco, without breaking the kiss, reached out and fumbled for his wand on the night stand. Harry pulled back, watching him as he cast a few charms on himself: cleansing, protection, and some lube for good measure. He set his wand back down when he was done, using his newly free hands to squeeze Harry’s muscular shoulders and arms. Harry slowly worked on Draco’s pyjama top, watching enraptured as more pale skin was revealed. When Harry finished unbuttoning Draco’s shirt, Draco sat up a little, giving Harry room to take it all the way off. However, when he reached to slide the shoulders off, the moonlight hit Draco’s torso and he could see the scars. Harry’s breath hitched, his hand trailing down to feel the rough tissue.  
“It’s okay,” Draco whispered, “it’s over now.” Harry wasn’t sure if Draco was talking to him or himself. Harry had so many things he wanted to say that he couldn’t speak. “I’m sorry,” “I’ll never hurt you again,” and “forgive me” were all major candidates for what to say, but instead, Harry opted for leaning down and gently kissing along each one. Draco’s breath got a little shaky, and Harry smiled when he noticed. When he was done, he sat back up and finished taking Draco’s shirt off, planting a quick kiss to an exposed shoulder while he was at it.  
“Lean back,” Harry whispered, and Draco did, laying down on the mattress. Harry reached under the band of Draco’s pyjama bottoms, and Draco lifted his hips to help get them off. Harry ran his hands along Draco’s legs, taking a deep breath. Draco felt himself blushing a bit at the treatment he was getting. It felt a bit silly, but Draco would almost say he felt beautiful.  
Harry reluctantly pulled his hands away to remove his own pants. Draco couldn’t see Harry’s length, but he felt it a moment later, gently pressing against his hole.  
“Go ahead,” Draco approved, sounding more exasperated than he thought he would. Harry gently pressed in, just the head, and Draco let in a sharp inhale just as Harry exhaled like a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders.  
Carefully, Harry repositioned himself so that he was laying over Draco, arms beside his blonde head, and thrusted in an inch further. Draco gasped; Harry was thick, and incredibly hard. Draco had a bit of an inner smirk wondering how long Harry had been so desperately hard for him.  
Harry moved in further, more progress than the last one but still not all the way. Draco actually moaned, ever so quietly, when he did. Harry immediately knew he needed to hear that sound again, and he patiently slid the rest of his length into Draco.  
Harry had always just assumed that, the deeper you were inside someone, the better it would feel, and that the pleasure would be directly related to how much further you to. This hypothesis turned out to be mostly true, except for the fact that being fully sheathed inside was exponentially better. Harry groaned, almost in disbelief about how good it felt- not just physically, but mentally- to be entirely inside of Draco. Draco moaned, properly, and it was everything Harry had dreamed of. Harry let himself recover for a moment before sliding back out halfway and slowly pushing back. Draco moaned again, nails absentmindedly scratching at Harry’s back. Harry thrusted again and again, at an achingly slow pace. Draco was a little surprised at himself for not being more impatient, but mainly he was just absorbed into the feeling of being filled so smoothly. Draco wrapped his arms and legs around Harry’s body so tightly you’d think he thought he was about to fall through the bed and into an abyss.  
“Harry, Harry,” Draco chanted breathlessly, as Harry leaned down to kiss his neck some more.  
“I’m close,” Harry said as if it were an apology, but Draco just nodded.  
“It’s okay,” Draco whispered against his ear, “I want you to come inside me.”  
“ _Draco_ ,” Harry moaned, spilling himself inside Draco’s channel.  
Harry collapsed beside Draco, pulling him close.  
“Draco, you’re perfect,” Harry whispered against his back, leaving kisses randomly wherever he saw fit.  
“Not true, but sweet,” Draco replied with a lazy smile.  
“You didn’t… I should help you…” Harry began, his voice heavy with exhaustion.  
“Shh, it’s fine, just go to sleep,” Draco cooed as he turned back to give Harry a kiss on the forehead. Soon, Harry’s breathing slowed, and Draco knew he was asleep. Draco smiled to himself, closing his eyes and wriggling deeper into Harry’s embrace.


	3. Chapter 3

Draco jumped awake, his mind racing with those basic post-war waking-up questions, such as  _ where am I? _ ,  _ how did I get here? _ , and a specialty for this morning,  _ is that Harry Potter drooling on me? _

Draco smiled, looking down at Harry’s dishevelled form.  He was spread all over the place, which was pretty impressive considering they barely fit in the bed, and one arm was still draped over Draco’s waist.  Draco willed himself to stop looking at Harry with what was probably the most embarrassingly heartfelt expression, but even Malfoy couldn’t bring himself to scowl in that moment.

Draco peeled Harry’s arm off of him and hopped into the shower.  His thoughts swirled with half-awake memories of his midnight rendezvous with his partner.  It had felt undeniably right, even though the dwindling logical side of Draco’s brain said everything about it was wrong. 

Draco closed his eyes and let the shower wash away whatever had happened, whether or not it was a mistake.

He heard Harry step into the bathroom, shuffling through his things on the sink counter.  Draco wanted to say something to him through the shower curtain, but couldn’t decide what was best to say, so he said nothing.

When Draco had finished his shower, he got dressed in the bathroom and exited out into the room, where Harry was getting dressed by his bed.

“Oh, hi,” Harry said with a sheepish smile.  Draco smiled back, willing his face not to blush.

“Good morning,” Draco replied, managing to regulate himself to a calm, professional tone.

Harry walked closer to Draco, still buttoning his shirt.  Draco gave him a bit of a look.  

“Um,” Harry said quietly, stepping forward until he was quite close to Draco, letting out a bit of a nervous laugh.  Draco didn’t realize what Harry was trying to do until he leaned up and pecked Draco’s lips.

“Oh!” Draco smiled.

“Good morning,” Harry finally reciprocated.  Draco smiled down at him, and they kissed again, and though it was longer than the first, Harry still pulled away after only a moment.

“We’re out of books, so we should go in today,” Harry said.

“I was thinking the same thing; It’s a bit musty in here, too,” Draco noted.

They apparated to the ministry, worked in awkward silence, and for a while it was all fine.  Then, it wasn’t fine, because for no discernable reason, Draco couldn’t stop thinking about his encounter with Harry.  Draco kept looking up at him, expecting to see some sign that Harry hadn’t forgotten about it entirely- well, he figured Harry wouldn’t have kissed him this morning if he’d really forgotten it, but he still was acting like it never happened.  And the more Draco thought about the incident strategically, he thought about it, you know, the way normal people probably reminisce on sexual encounters.  Questions like  _ did he even realize what he was doing? _ ,  _ does he want to be with me? _ , and  _ did it matter to him?  _ were answered with memories of “ _ I want to be inside you _ ,” “ _ I was waiting for the right person _ ,” and of course, the way he said Draco’s name that had changed everything, that had shifted time and space, that had divided Draco’s life into two sections: everything that happened before Harry Potter said his name that way, and everything that happened afterward.

Draco was so lost in thought that he hadn’t noticed he was staring at Harry intensely, which he noticed around the same time that he noticed he was… aroused.

Draco buried his head in his hands.  Urges had been proverbially knocking at Draco’s door ever since last night: he wasn’t at all unsatisfied by his sex with Harry, but having one of the most erotic experiences of his life and not relieving the tension since was starting to take its toll. The more Draco tried not to think about it, the more he thought about it, about  _ everything. _ Draco’s eyes scanned Harry hungrily.  He wanted him, Merlin, he  _ needed  _ him right now, but knowing Harry’s sweet, up-until-recently-virginal self, he thought if he came onto him he’d be lucky to get innocent, delicate sex.  Sure, it had been really wonderful before, but there’s a time for sugar, and there’s a time for spice.  Draco’s mind was swirling with the most filthy thoughts, the most outrageous fantasies, and he felt himself growing hotter (and harder).  When a strained sigh escaped from Draco’s lips, Harry looked up at him innocently.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.   _ Oh he’s so cute,  _ Draco thought against his own will.

“I just, I… er, I’m not feeling too well,” Draco shifted uncomfortably under Harry’s gaze.

“Oh, sorry,” Harry smiled sympathetically and went back to his work.  And then Harry did that thing where he bit his lip when he was reading, and Draco’s insides got all twisted and he knew he had no other choice.  Draco dashed out of his chair, fumbled onto Harry’s desk and spilled his pot of ink all over the paperwork.  Harry stood up to get out of the way and gasped.

“Christ!  What the hell was that?” Harry looked at Draco with more confusion than anger.  Draco looked around a bit, grabbed a photo frame of Harry and his friends and tossed it across the room, hitting the wall and shattering the glass.  Harry looked at the photo, and back at Draco with a fire in his eyes, and Draco felt the push as he was forced forward even more.

“What the fuck, Malfoy?” Harry yelled.

“I’m not even sorry,” Draco panted, exasperated from the rush of doing  _ that  _ and his ever-growing need.

“What- what is even happening?  Are you insane?  Are you mad at me for something?” Harry was, understandably, quite unsure how to react.

“Nothing in particular,” Draco breathed, feeling himself pulled closer to Harry until they were only an inch or two apart, “Just letting out my general hatred of you and your stupid hair and those ugly robes…” Draco’s eyes clouded, and he found himself pressed against Harry’s warm body, absentmindedly feeling his chest.

“My… robes are ugly?” Harry asked in a softer tone, his voice deep and throaty.  Draco sighed: it seemed he was catching on to the situation.

“Yes, they’re hideous, you need to take them off,” Draco decided as he reached for the top button of Harry’s robes.  Harry cautiously leaned in, licking a stripe on Draco’s neck, but Draco’s shuddery moan spurred him on.

“You’re wearing the same robes,” Harry pointed out between sucking kisses on Draco’s pale neck.

“Oh, well, I can’t be in the Ministry looking unpresentable,” Draco replied coyly, making a point of reminding Harry they were fooling around in the Ministry, which- at least in Draco’s opinion- was wildly sexy.  Harry’s hands moved down from Draco’s shoulders to his robes, beginning to undo them.  Though Harry was moving at a teasingly slow pace compared to Draco’s dirty fantasies, the force with which his hands grabbed and his lips kissed and-  _ fuck _ \- and his cock ground against Draco’s, it was clear this was going to be a wholly different kind of intense from their last union.  Draco leaned his head back with a shaky moan, and Harry pulled him closer (not that they could get much closer), getting off the last button and shedding Draco of his robes.  Draco had fumbled with Harry’s buttons a bit, distracted by… everything, but he managed to get his off a few seconds after.  Harry made quick work of Draco’s belt and trousers, pulling them down just to the mid-thigh and rubbing Draco’s hardness through his pants.  Draco would say that the sound he made afterwards was a moan, but Harry would rightfully tell you it was a squeal.

“Like that?” Harry asked coyly, obviously aware of the answer, and giving Draco a rather hard bite just below his jaw.   
“Fuck, Harry!” Draco bit his lip and Harry thought his soul might leave his body hearing Draco say his name like that.  Draco’s hands flew to Harry’s belt, desperately undoing it.

“Why the rush?” Harry teased, slowly unbuttoning Draco’s shirt and kissing lower with each new button undone.

“I need you to fuck me, please,” Draco sighed, rutting himself against Harry wantonly.

“Here?  In the office?  Isn’t that-” Harry leaned in by Draco’s ear, licking the shell and whispering, “dirty?”

Draco nodded feverishly. “Yes, it is,” Draco shivered, finally managing to open up Harry’s trousers, which revealed he wasn’t wearing pants at all.  Draco gasped a bit when he saw that.  He instantly reached for Harry’s cock, hard and getting harder by the second.  

“God, you’re huge,” Draco sighed.  Harry grinned and pushed Malfoy back onto the desk.  He pulled Draco’s pants out of the way, revealing Draco’s throbbing erection.  Harry pushed two fingers to Draco’s lips, and Draco readily accepted them, sucking with abandon, half-lidded grey eyes piercing into widening green.  Draco watched as Harry bit his lip, hard, and smirked around the fingers.

“You’re good at that,” Harry said, a bit out of breath.  He took his fingers out, reluctantly, and lined them up with Draco’s opening.  Draco whined needily, just the wetness on his rim drawing him closer to release.  Whether or not Harry plunged two fingers in straight away out of naivete or as a stylistic choice, Draco wasn’t sure, but he really did not care, arching his back and letting out a broken moan.  Call him a masochist, but Draco loved the slick burn.

Harry meanwhile, was thrusting his fingers into the silky, hot insides of Draco Malfoy, who was half dressed, sweaty, and flushed, writhing in pleasure on his desk, and Harry thought his soul might leave his body at the sight.  

Draco reached a hand up to grip at the other end of the desk, knuckles turning white (or perhaps whit _ er _ , considering his pale complexion) with the force of his grip.  Draco kept changing from lifting his head to watch Harry and throwing his head back at the feeling of being stretched.  All of a sudden, Harry stopped, and Draco whined, sinking onto the desk.  Harry quickly yanked off Malfoy’s shoes, taking off his socks, trousers, and pants afterwards.  Draco felt himself blush strongly at the realization that Harry was still dressed, while he was only wearing his shirt and tie (both of which were halfway off).  Harry draped Draco’s legs (which Harry was sure went on for miles) over his shoulders and lined up his cock with Draco’s needy, spasming hole.  Draco half expected Harry to tease him further, but was pleasantly surprised (to say the least) when Harry plunged in in one stroke.

“ _ Fuck _ !” Draco nearly shouted.  Harry pounded into him immediately, unrelenting in both speed and force.  Draco had moaned before, sure, he did it a lot, but never in his various escapades had he just let out one continuous moan without thinking, as if the sound were not his own but just a trapped echo escaping from deep inside himself.  Harry had never considered what it would sound like if someone moaned for a long time while you thrusted into them, but it turns out it sounds like heaven.

“Oh Merlin right there, Harry please don’t stop,” Draco found himself saying without having thought to say it.

“I couldn’t stop if I wanted to,” Harry honestly replied.  He leaned down, burying his face into Draco’s neck and using his hands to spread Draco’s legs.  Hearing Draco’s pants and moans so close to his ear was a much more intimate experience, although Harry certainly enjoyed hearing them echo around their office, too.

“I’m gonna come, Harry, you’re going to make me come,” Draco let out a sob, and Harry felt a need to make sure that was the only context in which Draco ever sobbed again.  The knowledge that Draco was about to come untouched, and the realization that he was falling in love with this beautiful git, hit Harry simultaneously like a punch to the gut, although it was a bit more enjoyable than that exact experience.  Expending his last ounce of energy, Harry drove into Draco as quickly as he could, watching Draco’s face as he felt his insides flex and warm liquid soak through his shirt.  Knowing Draco had come, Harry grabbed Draco’s thighs roughly and forced himself in as deep as he could go, spurring Harry into his own orgasm and eliciting a choked sob from Draco.

They lay there for a while, catching their breath and coming to terms with how amazing that experience had been.  Harry was ready for Draco to shove him off, even playfully, but he didn’t.  He just let Harry rest his head on his shoulder, and it filled Harry with hope for- dare he say- for the future.  For  _ their  _ future.

Of course, this train of thought derailed when Kingsley’s owl swooped in.  Harry begrudgingly peeled himself off of Draco, who began dressing himself, and plucked the letter from the bird.

“My office,” was all it said.

~

“I’m very happy to say, we’ve made a breakthrough in your case,” Kingsley smiled.  “Although we are still under the impression that this situation is a first, we have managed to determine enough about the condition to find an antidote.”

Draco and Harry smiled, not because they wanted to, but because they felt like they should.

“Perhaps the most notable findings, in regards to the symptoms, are that those affected may experience feelings of trust and affection caused by the curse,” Kingsley said, as if he was totally unaware how devastating that was to hear.  “They should fade within a few minutes after the antidote is administered,” Kingsley added with a quick flash of a friendly smile.  Draco wanted to crumple up and die (and it felt like his insides had already went ahead and done it).  He knew that he had strong feelings for Harry, and that Harry reciprocated them- I mean, who wouldn't want that?  But there was another layer to it, too, which Draco had refused to see until he lost it before he even had it: the validation, the hope, the redemption that came with Harry Potter loving him back.

Draco had certainly convinced himself, to an extent, that he was reformed.  That he was better.  That he was breaking the cycle.  That, just maybe, he was making a dent in all the hurt he had caused.  And he figured, if all that were true, he should feel better, but it hadn't really kicked in yet.  He never even got a chance to really believe that things were going to be different: just as he had begun to consider letting himself believe that Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy could fall in love and heal together, it was over.  Draco had worked so hard to be a good Auror, he had tortured himself with therapy, he had slaved away trying to rebuild his pride, but earn it this time around.  And he wanted to believe that it was his dedication to self-improvement finally paying off that led Harry to love him, not to mention maybe some of Draco's personality traits.  But, nope, it was some stupid hex blended with an Apparition and topped with a whole lot of bad luck.

“And, this antidote?” Harry asked impatiently.  God, not only were his feelings a fabrication, but he was already itching to get away from Draco even with the dazzlingly inconvenient curse.  Draco looked away, a pained sneer ghosting over his expression. _  Have a little decency, Potter,  _ he thought,  _ have a little sympathy.  _

“Ah,” Kingsley replied, “it's a potion, which should be done brewing around this time tomorrow.”

Harry sighed.  Was it a sigh of relief?  Or was there a touch of sadness to it?  Draco’s heart couldn’t take any more worrying about things like that.

~

“So, our last night stuck together,” Harry said, interrupting an awkward silence that had lasted since their departure from the Ministry and through their nighttime routines in the hotel room.

“Yeah,” Malfoy replied curtly.

Harry took a wavering breath.  Why was Malfoy suddenly so terrifying.

“Maybe we should… celebrate?” Harry suggested tentatively, walking over to Malfoy.

“I suppose I could go for a drink,” Malfoy considered.  Harry sighed.

“Actually, I was thinking…” Harry trailed off, and gently reached out, touching Draco’s sides.  Although Draco’s face stayed still, watching Harry calmly, Harry still heard the tiny gasp he let out.

“You know, a proper send-off,” Harry continued when Draco didn’t say anything.   
“It’s not real.” Draco turned away, brushing off Harry’s hands.

“But it feels real,” Harry sulked. “Who cares about how we feel tomorrow?  Can’t we have fun now?” Harry smiled, grabbing Draco’s hips and pressing against him.  Draco froze, and Harry knew he was so close to Draco admitting that whatever had happened between them mattered.  Harry leaned forward and placed a playful bite on Draco’s shoulder blade through his shirt.  All of a sudden, Draco turned and shoved Harry onto his bed, but not in the way Harry was hoping for.

“Merlin, can’t you take a hint?  I don’t want it, arsehole.” Draco wouldn’t even look at him.  Harry felt guilty more than anything that Draco thought he was trying to pressure him, but the pain of guilt wasn’t strong enough to cover the sting of rejection, either.

“Draco, I didn’t me-”

“It doesn’t matter.  Let’s just go to sleep and get this all over with,” Malfoy muttered, crawling between his sheets.  Harry got into his own bed as well, surviving off the memory of holding Draco close like he had the last time he slept here.  That moment still felt recent, because it was, but was now impossibly far away.  The memory was vivid, but it felt fake: just like Draco was now, it was out of Harry’s reach.

“Goodnight, Draco,” Harry whispered as he turned out the light.  Malfoy only grunted in response.

~

Harry and Draco examined the phials lying on their desks.  They knew what was in them.  They knew what would happen when they drank them.  And yet, they both hesitated.

Draco grabbed his first, uncorking it quickly.

“Cheers,” Harry smiled as he held out his phial.  Draco looked at the phial, and then Harry’s face, and returned a weak smile.

“Cheers.”

They clinked their phials; Harry took a deep breath, quickly uncorking and chugging his dose of the potion, glancing over at Draco drinking his own.  Draco’s eyes looked a bit watery- must have been from the acidic aftertaste.

Harry finished his potion, and it went down pretty easily, as far as potions go.

“How… how do you feel?” Harry asked tentatively.  Draco processed the question for a moment.

“I… suppose I feel the same,” Draco said plainly, and Harry’s heart jumped.  He didn’t mean that he still felt…  _ that  _ way, did he?

“I mean,” Draco continued, making Harry less excited, “I feel fine, not sick or anything.”

“Yeah, neither do I,” Harry grumbled.  Draco experimentally stepped back.  He stepped back again.   
“No perimeter yet,” Draco noted excitedly.  He continued walking and reached the door, a pleased smile on his face.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Draco said, practically beaming, “which you finally can, I’m going to go home.  And be alone.  Totally, completely,” Draco really savoured the last word as he said it, “ _ alone _ .”

Seeing Draco so happy made Harry’s heart warm, but of course it also made his stomach sick and his eyes burn.  Harry smiled curtly. “Enjoy.”  

“I will,” Draco added for emphasis, with a bit of coolness to his tone.  Draco opened the door, about to step out, when he stopped and turned on his heel.  Draco walked back to Harry quickly, and stuck out his hand.

“Harry Potter, being bonded to you was… mostly painless,” Draco offered.  Draco standing before him, presenting his hand with a back-handed compliment brought Harry back.  And Harry wondered, if nothing else, if they could be friends after this.

_ You don’t want to be friends _ , Annoying Voice pointed out.  

_ But it may be the best I can get _ , Harry replied before reaching out and taking Draco into a firm handshake.

“We had our ups and downs,” Harry responded, not intending for his tone to give off as much innuendo as it did, causing Draco to suddenly blush furiously.  Harry still loved watching him do that.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Draco stepped away and walked back to the door.  He looked back at Harry for a second before wordlessly continuing his walk down the hall to the Apparition point.

~

Harry barely slept.  It felt like a piece of him was missing.  Not that he had been all that protective of his virginity, but he felt so stupid for thinking it was the right time when it was all a hallucination.  Even worse, he felt stupid for not really bringing himself to regret it.  He hated it, in a way, but he replayed every intimate moment (even the emotionally, rather than physically, intimate ones) in his mind.  He searched for a reason to believe it wasn’t real, proof Draco was deluded the whole time.  He wondered if maybe the connection the curse had caused somehow hadn’t faded yet.   _ Maybe it never will,  _ Annoying Voice returned for a victory lap around Harry’s brain,  _ maybe it wasn’t because of the curse _ .

_ Maybe you should mind your own business and let me sleep _ , Harry shot back mentally.  The voice quieted, but Harry still didn’t get much sleep.

~

Somewhere, far across a dark and quiet town, Draco was on his balcony, drinking a scotch and admiring the view.  He could see lights turning off in windows, he could see offices with their residents working late, he could see wind blowing in the trees far off in the distance, parts of the world left untouched by modern development.  Taking a final sip, Draco set down his drink and walked to his room.  Something about undressing for bed felt so important to Draco, a sacred ritual.  With his dress shirt, he removed his armor, his facade.  Though the shirt itself was light, it took with it the heavy expectations Draco carried for himself.  Taking off his shoes and trousers, he slipped into his silky pajama bottoms.  He reached for the top, but decided not to wear it all of a sudden, climbing into bed and letting himself sink into it’s cool embrace.  He arranged the pillows around himself neatly, his own little burrow away from anything other than the comfort of bed.  He stared up at his enchanted ceiling, whose stars were obscured from view by grey clouds.  Thunder clapped within his room, and lightning flashed within the clouds.  Soon, rain was pouring from the ceiling and into his room, but Draco lay still.  He felt the cold rain soak through his sheets, hit his face and chest, and make an absolute mess of all his pillows.  He sat up, letting it wash over his entire body, reaching out his arms to feel it on his fading Dark Mark, on the scars he made trying to carve it out.  Draco closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, and there wasn’t any Harry Potter or binding curse or unrequited love or work stress or judgemental glances from strangers.  There wasn’t up or down or forward or backward, just rain.  Just rain on Draco’s skin.  You’d think one wouldn’t be able to distinguish between raindrops and tears, but tears are so much warmer.

~

Narcissa yawned, answering the door and blinking to try and see.

“Draco, what are you doing here so late at night?” She looked him up and down, trying not to look too shocked at her son, standing at her door in pyjamas holding a pillow under his arm.

“I didn’t want to be alone.” Draco thought he’d be able to say it without crying, but he had to bite his lip to hold as much of it in as he could, his voice cracking as he spoke.

“Alright, sweetie, let’s just go back to bed alright?  It’s all going to be perfectly fine.” She took his arm, leading him inside.  Draco sleepily leaned his head against hers.

“I love you, Mother,” Draco whispered.

“I love you too, Draco,” she sighed.

They walked up the stairs to Draco’s bedroom together, and he replaced the pillow there with his new one.  Draco looked around his room, unsurprisingly finding it the same as he remembered from the last time he slept in it last year (he visited more often, of course, just rarely overnight), and practically the same as it had been since he was quite young.  He had designed his apartment to be different from the Manor in every way imaginable. The Manor was dark and dreary; His apartment was nearly all white and was bathed in sunlight all day long.  The Manor was old, practically a museum; His apartment was new itself, as well as being filled almost exclusively with new things.  The Manor was secluded on acres of land being used for nothing except keeping others away; His apartment was just on the edge of modern London.  Sometimes, Draco hated visiting the Manor, even if just for a day, though he enjoyed visiting his mother.  But, sometimes, you just need to go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry these chapters keep getting shorter, and sorry that my formatting is so inconsistent, I'm still trying to figure all this out. also sorry not sorry for the Angst lmao.. new chapter coming soonish!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the working title for this chapter is "how many women does it take to get two idiots to figure out they're in love?"

Draco jumped up in his bed.  _ Where am I?  _ He scanned the room quickly. He wasn’t as used to it as he was his own apartment, but it wasn’t difficult to conclude he was in his childhood bedroom.

_ How did I get here?  _ That memory stung: Draco had stumbled here in the middle of the night, suddenly terrified of being all alone in his apartment.  Somehow he slept easier knowing his mother was nearby, even if her room was all the way across the Manor.

_ Am I safe?  _ In a certain sense, yes.  Draco could remember the Dark Lord roaming through this house like it was yesterday, but he knew it was a distant past.  So, yes, Draco was safe from war here, but not memories of it.  Looking around his room was almost surreal.  Even sleeping in his bed felt incredibly odd: he could remember thinking this bed was so vast, big enough to fit another few people entirely, but of course he was much smaller then.  As an adult, it was still plenty of room, but it was nothing compared to the fortress it felt like as a boy.  All the fantasy books Draco read as a child had talked about best friends, people going on adventures together, and certainly most fascinating to Draco, sleepovers, which were apparently this incredibly sacred practice among children in which there was candy and staying up all night and deep conversations.  Draco had waited patiently for the time when someone would want to spend a night at the Manor: Draco figured, with a bed the size of a small village and enough sweets and toys for a lifetime, certainly someone would come over some time.  Of course, the Manor was secluded and gloomy and Draco begged his parents for a sibling once he realized there was no other chance of having a friend, but it was useless.  

Draco’s train of thought was interrupted by a sudden and stark memory of his collection.  Draco also read in books about children collecting things, like rocks or books or candy wrappers, so Draco tried to start collections of anything he could think of.  Flowers, rocks, and insects from the garden all became specimens in various attempts at a normal hobby.  Draco could never keep with them though, since he never really cared much about the things he was collecting, and soon each item was abandoned, probably thrown out at some point.  The only collection Draco ever managed to keep adding to, though he didn’t think of it much as a collection at the time, was sitting under his bed right then.

Draco leaned over, reaching down under the bed.  It was right where he remembered hiding it: stuck to the underside of his bedframe.  It was a rather small box, one that had first contained shoes he’d gotten for Christmas when he was probably 6 or 7.  Draco wrenched it from its place, pulling it up onto his lap.  With a deep breath, he took off the lid.  It was mostly newspaper clippings, and Draco picked up the one on top.

**_THE BOY WHO LIES?_ ** it read, and Draco watched a younger Harry shift around in the photo, looking uncomfortable and confused.  The next clipping was the interview about Voldemort’s return, which Draco remembered finding rather annoying at the time since it contained no photo.  Draco laughed quietly to himself: He had successfully collected every piece of public information about Harry Potter for over 10 years, and had managed to avoid considering why he was doing it.  He did it without thinking, blinding himself to why he cared to do it at all.  Draco was sure now it was one of the greatest feats in cognitive dissonance of all time.  Draco found a piece of parchment, folded in on itself about 7 times, and unfolded it to see a list of random words.  He knew immediately that it was a list of Potterwatch passwords.  

Draco remembered putting a spare Potter Stinks badge in the box after he'd made them in their fourth year, but after the Tournament, it just made him think of the horrible sight of a sobbing, screaming Potter clutching Diggory’s body.  It was the first time Draco had seen a dead body.  He thought at the time, however foolishly, it would be the last.  Draco had thrown the last badge out a window in disgust.

Draco took a moment to reflect on why he collected these trinkets, and why he still had them.  He remembered carefully examining any information available about Harry, especially during the war.  It gave him hope.  It gave him strength.  Most simply, it made him happy, even if it did so in a weird and sometimes depressing way.  Even as Draco flipped through the clippings today, he couldn't help but smile.  That really was the point of a collection: to commemorate something you love.

Draco frowned.  He wasn't ready to admit to himself that he was in love with Harry Potter.  Okay, so he sort of already had, but he decided to forget about that.  He told himself the same things he'd been telling himself for years: it's not obsession, it's not romantic or sexual, it's just a phase.  But this time it wasn't working.  Harry had hated him so fucking much before, it was easy to ignore it all.  When he was a teenager, Draco just had to remember how cruel Harry had been to him and it was all forgotten.  Now, all Draco could remember was Harry looking up at him and Harry smiling at him and that weird look he had in his eyes when they were…

Draco grimaced, setting the box aside.  No point dwelling on  _ that _ .  It was all an illusion.

 

Harry sipped his coffee, staring off into space.  Being so close to someone, physically and emotionally, had taken a toll on Harry.  It had only been 3 nights, sure, but now that it was over it felt like the emotional equivalent of losing a limb.  

A flame in his Floo broke Harry’s trance.  Hermione stepped out, brushing herself on and walking down to where Harry was sitting on the couch.

“Hope I’m not interrupting,” Hermione said with a smile.

“You’re not,” Harry replied.

“Harry, that was a joke, you’re obviously doing nothing.” Hermione frowned.

“Oh, sorry,” Harry sighed. 

“You’ve been totally spaced out ever since you got unstuck from Malfoy- sorry I couldn’t help you with the research, by the way-” 

“The baby’s more important than research,” Harry frowned.

“I know, that’s why I didn’t help, but I wanted to,” Hermione frowned back.

“Well, we handled it fine on our own,” Harry groaned, pulling a blanket over himself.

“See, this is exactly what I’m talking about.  I can see why being trapped with Malfoy for three days would make you cranky, but it’s over now, I figured you’d be having a celebratory drink at the Leaky or something.” 

“It’s complicated.” Harry looked away.  Hermione sighed.

“Of course it is.  It’s never that simple when it comes to Malfoy, is it?” Hermione asked with one eyebrow raised.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry tried to act offended, but he was mostly past the point of trying to pull the wool over Hermione’s eyes.

“Don’t act so miffed, it’s Malfoy, you’re obsessed with him-”

“Hermione, don’t be ridiculous,” Harry half-heartedly defended.  Draco wasn’t here, so why did he feel so guilty dismissing him?

“I’m being ridiculous?  Tell me, then, what happened with you and Malfoy that has had you moping around all weekend?  Prove I'm being ridiculous,” Hermione challenged.  Harry sighed: she's way too good at figuring him out.

“Nothing happened,” Harry started to say, but midway through he ran out of the energy required to lie. “Something happened but he's acting like it didn't.  And I wish I at least had a chance to understand.”

Hermione looked confused. “He's acting like nothing happened? How so?”

“Well he hasn't contacted me, for one, and when we got cured he just… walked away,” Harry reflected, staring off into space as he was plunged into more memories than he bargained for.

“Have you contacted him?” Hermione asked.

“Er, no,” Harry considered.  He was no Hermione but he was starting to see where this was going.

“What did you do after getting cured?” Hermione asked further.

“I… watched him walk away,” Harry admitted.  Damn it.  Why did Hermione  _ always  _ have to be right?

“Don't you think maybe he doesn't owe you anything, then, if you haven't indicated you want to acknowledge whatever it is that happened?” Hermione pressed.

“I was gonna talk to him on Monday. Or I was going to think about it at least,” Harry defended.

“If I've learned anything from being married it's that talking is kind of the only thing you can do,” Hermione said, wagging her finger.  

“What does that have to do with me?” Harry furrowed his brow.

“I mean, that applies to all relationships, even those that are,” Hermione tried to hide her devious smile, but failed, “erm, strictly professional.”

“I’m going to Luna’s,” Harry groaned, getting up off the couch.

“Hey!  At least I got you to move off this couch!” Hermione laughed.

“Tell Ron I said hi, I’ll owl him later,” Harry said, ignoring Hermione entirely, and Flooing to Luna’s house.

 

“Do you intend to spend the entire weekend here?” Narcissa asked, watching her tea brew itself.  Before Draco could reply, she was correcting herself.

“Of course I don’t mean to come across as if you’re a burden, I’d love to have you stay as long as possible.  I’m just surprised,” Narcissa clarified.

“I’m not sure yet,” Draco replied quickly, staring down at his breakfast.

“Do you feel like telling me what happened yet?” Narcissa asked suddenly.

“I figured you’d already used Legilimency to figure it out,” Draco accused.  Narcissa made a face as if she were offended, but then paused for thought.

“So you don’t mind then?  Because I’m not sure I’m up for prying it out of you,” she pondered aloud.

“Mother!” Draco protested.

“It was your idea!  You don’t actually intend to tell me or, Merlin forbid, actually let me  _ help  _ you, do you?” Narcissa crossed her arms.

Draco looked away.

“So what am I supposed to do then?  Sit back and watch you have a breakdown?” 

“I’m not having a breakdown,” Draco weakly denied.  “I just had a peculiar situation at work.”

“Are they mistreating you?” Narcissa pressed.

“No- I mean, they always do, I just- it was-” Draco took a deep breath and started over.  “I had an incident with my partner.”

“ _ Oh. _ ” Narcissa looked down, ending her interrogation.  Narcissa had known Draco long enough to know that matters regarding Harry Potter were never worth bothering him about.  

After that, the morning passed in silence.

 

“Luna?” Harry called out into the house.  It was exactly the kind of place one would expect Luna to live in: colorful, discombobulated, covered in trinkets.  It had lots of windows too, causing it to nearly always be bathed in sunlight, which reminded Harry a bit of Draco’s apartment.

“I’m back here,” a voice called from another room.  Harry followed it to a small patio where Luna was painting the view: rolling hills, a distant creek, spotted trees.

“That’s really good,” Harry said, gesturing to the painting.

“Thank you.  I have enchanted brushes that make it easier, but doing it the Muggle way is a little more fulfilling,” Luna said with that dreamy, wispy voice.

“You mind if I ask you for some advice?” Harry sat down next to her.

“Is it about how you got magically stuck to Draco?  I heard about that from Hermione when it first happened.  I guess you’ve found a cure, since Draco isn’t here being stuck to you,” Luna noticed.

“Yes, we were cured but… part of me fears some of the effects have stayed.  I tried to talk to Hermione about it but she knows too much, and with the new baby I didn’t feel right bothering them.  Plus, I didn’t know if Ron could remain neutral about it.”  His instincts told him that Luna couldn’t remain neutral either, or that she shouldn’t, since she was imprisoned in Malfoy Manor for so long, but she was the one attending galas for Malfoy’s charity, so he decided to trust her choice.

“Effects?  You mean there were other symptoms outside of being stuck to each other?” Luna asked.

“Yeah, well, apparently it also has an emotional component.  Like, being stuck to each other makes you feel sort of… connected,” Harry explained, feeling quite awkward talking about it.

“Wouldn’t spending that much time with someone have that effect in general?” Luna considered.

“I suppose, but I mean... it was more intense than that.” Harry felt himself blushing.

“Define ‘intense,’” Luna demanded.  Harry wanted to dodge more, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he could, or if it would even work.  Part of him just wanted to tell  _ someone _ .

“We had an… encounter,” Harry blurted out.  Luna continued looking at her painting, but Harry could still see the glint in her eye. 

“How do you mean?” Luna asked after a pause.

“Do you really not know what I mean, or do you just want to make me say it to torture me?” Harry hid his head in his hands.

“Fine, I know,” Luna chuckled.

“You’re laughing at me,” Harry groaned.

“No I-” Luna stopped. “You know, I am.  A little bit.  But not for sleeping with Draco-”

Harry groaned again.

“Just because of how perfect this all is,” Luna explained, buffing out a cloud in her painting.

Harry attempted to respond but all that came out was a spluttered “Perfect?!”

“Harry, it’s you and Draco, it’s always been something messy and emotional and… peculiar,” Luna added after a pause.  Harry scoffed:  _ Who is she to be talking about peculiar?  _ he thought.

“Whatever, that’s basically what Hermione said, I just need to know what to do,” Harry rushed.

“What did Hermione say to do?” Luna asked.  Harry sighed.

“I don’t know, something about… talking,” Harry remembered.

“Harry, I love you, and you’re one of my favorite people in the world,” Luna said suddenly.  Harry smiled. 

“Oh, thanks, Luna, I love you too,” Harry replied.

“But you are such a dumbass sometimes,” she finished frankly.

“Maybe wrackspurts are keeping me from thinking clearly,” Harry suggested with annoyance, feeling a little attacked.

“Something’s keeping you from thinking clearly,” Luna smirked, “but I don’t think it’s wrackspurts.”

“I think I’m going to go home, where no one judges me,” Harry said as he stood up.  _ Well, except Hermione, but I’m closing my Floo _ , Harry added mentally.

“No one’s judging you, Harry, we just want what’s best for you,” Luna said, finally looking over at him and giving him a big, stupid grin.

“Well…” Harry searched for a witty reply, but failed and sighed instead. “Thanks.”

“Any time, Harry.  Except when I’m sleeping.”

 

Harry Flooed home, curling back up on his couch.  Apparently, he was going to have to talk to Draco.  That never went very well.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry couldn’t sleep Sunday night: he knew he was going to have to tell Draco he was sort of still in love with him on Monday and it made him want to never get out of bed again.  But it also made him want to rip off the covers and pace all over the house.  It was the kind of anxiety that made his stomach hurt.  Not sleeping didn’t help much, either.

He went to the office two and a half hours early.  He figured he might as well be productive if he wasn’t going to be able to sleep.  Of course, more time waiting impatiently for Draco to walk through the door turned out to be agony.  Minutes felt like hours.  Harry did just about every horribly annoying anxiety habit: chewing his nails, drawing squiggles with his quill, wandlessly making random objects float across the room, pacing, tapping his fingers on his desk… if Malfoy was here, he’d probably smack Harry to make him stop, but then again, if Malfoy was here, none of this would be happening.

Malfoy always came in at 8 o’clock sharp, so at least Harry could be sure of that.  Malfoy was pretty predictable.  

Memories of how gently Draco held him, the feeling of soft breaths ghosting over his ear, the sounds of whispers in the dark suddenly tore through Harry’s mind.

...Okay, so he wasn’t as predictable as Harry had thought.

Harry tried to work, he really did, but it never took.  He’d read entire reports before he noticed that he hadn’t picked up on a single word, so he’d start over and repeat the useless process oncemore.  

_ Did you know the last half hour of 7 a.m. is approximately 5 hours long?  _ Harry absentmindedly wrote on spare square of parchment.

Each moment was longer than the one before it, and Harry was excited and horribly sick when he looked up and saw it was 8 a.m..  Draco was going to walk in the door any second now.

Harry watched the door for a few seconds before realizing how creepy it would be if Draco walked in to Harry staring him down.  So, he arranged himself to look as natural as possible, reading a report, except he wasn’t actually reading it because he was so anxious he wasn’t sure he could process language at all anymore.

Harry checked the clock incessantly.  It was 8 a.m. for so outrageously long Harry was sure it had broken.  He nearly jumped when it changed to 8:01, with no sign of Draco Malfoy.

Draco had never been late before, not even this insignificant amount of late.  Or, if he had, Harry had been later than him and couldn’t have known.

Harry watched in disbelief as the clock ticked to 8:02.  He couldn’t help wondering if something was horribly wrong.  He wanted to ask Kingsley if he’d heard anything, but he knew if he ran into the Head Auror’s office asking about Malfoy at 8:02, he’d give himself away, let alone look like an idiot.

Harry barely managed to distract himself until 8:11, figuring Malfoy was late enough to merit professional concern. Of course, he still ran to Kingsley’s office.

“Have you heard from Malfoy?” Harry asked, bursting in through the door.  Kingsley jumped a bit at the surprise.

“Oh!  He owled last night, said he wasn’t feeling well, took a sick day,” Kingsley offered with a slightly confused smile. “Is everything alright?”

“Er, yeah.  Everything’s fine.  I’m taking the day off,” Harry said suddenly, dashing out of the office.

“Wait, what?” came Kingsley’s voice from behind him, but Harry made his way to the apparition point anyways.

 

Apparating to Malfoy’s flat was a bit difficult, having only been there once, but soon Harry was plopped right outside the door.  Harry could imagine it now, bathed in the light of morning.  He knocked, immediately wondering if he should have waited first, perhaps considered what to say when Malfoy answered the door.  That turned out to not be an issue, when Malfoy didn’t answer.  Harry knocked again, certain Malfoy would be thoroughly annoyed when he finally answered.  Harry waited, probably longer than he should have.  After a few very long minutes, Harry sighed and left.  He Apparated back the office, unsure what else to do if he couldn’t reach Malfoy.  It’s not like he could really get much work done, but at least he could be physically present.  As he walked back to his office, he secretly fantasized that Malfoy would be there, working as if nothing had happened.  Maybe he’d be willing to talk, waiting to tell Harry something important.  Maybe he’d just be sitting there, reading with that perfect calmness, and Harry could enjoy basking in his icy glow.  Neither of those happened, because of course Malfoy was not there.  An owl was, though, and Harry didn’t even get the luxury of imagining it was Malfoy’s, delivering an apology or explanation, since Malfoy’s owl was pure white (fittingly) and this owl was dusty brown.  It was coming to drop off some paperwork from another Auror, but her presence gave Harry a rather simple idea he wished he’d thought of before he’d gone to Malfoy’s apartment.  He sat down at his desk quickly, grabbing his quill and the parchment he’d written on before.  He wrote under his previous note, 

_ I wrote this waiting for you.  Owl me.  -H _

 

Draco didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until he awoke, suddenly, to an owl rapping at his window.  He groaned, turning away to go back to sleep, before realizing it was Harry’s.  He wasn’t sure if that made him want to read it immediately, or hide from it even longer.  Before his brain decided, his arms had already reached out, taking the parchment from the bird.

Reading the note made him feel like his heart was using his stomach as a trampoline.  And his brain must’ve left entirely, because he was completely unsure what to think about it.  It was definitely somewhere between a petty note from an angry coworker and a love letter.  

Draco spent a long time trying to understand the letter, but he eventually realized that he probably never would, and even if he did, it’s not as if that would lead him to an easy response.

_ I’ll come by your flat tomorrow _ , Draco finally wrote.  He handed it over to the impatient bird, who took off.  Draco curled back into bed, hoping he could banish it all from his mind rather than overthink it.  He didn’t have much of a chance to do either, though, before his mother entered the room.

“How long have you been awake?” Narcissa asked upon examining Draco’s crumpled form.  Draco only shrugged in response.

“When do you intend on going back to work?” 

Draco shrugged again.

“Draco, I’m your mother, you need to give me real answers,” Narcissa said, stern but understanding.  Draco sat up, but still stared at the wall in defiance.

“I’m not sure when I’ll be ready to go back.  I can’t stand being seen like this,” Draco replied.

“Seen like what?  What are you going through that you don’t want to be seen?” Narcissa pressed.  Draco sighed.

“It’s… emotional,” Draco clarified.  Narcissa nodded knowingly.

“Ah, I see,” Narcissa said, sitting on the bed.  She began to speak, but the owl returned to the window before she could properly begin.  Draco reached past her to grab the letter.  He started to open it, before frowning at Narcissa who was peering to read along.

“Oh, sorry,” she said quickly, turning away.  Draco opened the seal.

_ I will surely go insane if I have to wait until tomorrow,  _ it read.  Draco smirked.

_ You are insane. Tonight, then. _ Draco wrote back, handing his reply over to the bird.  She took off, and Narcissa faced him again.

“You’re a Black through and through, Draco.  We like to keep what we know and what we feel close to the vest.  It has served us well, but it goes too far sometimes.”  Narcissa ran a hand through Draco’s hair.

“Maybe you should embrace your Malfoy blood for a while,” Narcissa suggested.  Draco looked at her incredulously.

“You’re kidding!” Draco protested.

“Don’t insult your father, Draco.” Narcissa took up that stern tone again, more serious than before.  Draco had come to a rather intense disdain for his late father, but Narcissa was still far too sensitive.  Draco scoffed quietly, but didn’t say anything.

“I just mean that you should be more open to self-expression.” Draco didn’t respond, and Narcissa sighed.  “You know, you’re quite perplexing,” she said suddenly.  Draco looked at her questioningly.

“You’ve got that Black stature so much of the time: calm, aloof, unbothered.  And you seem so invested in keeping that image.  Then whenever Harry Potter is involved-” 

Draco groaned, burying himself in the covers again and turning away.

“He makes you so emotional!  You’re all over the place!” Narcissa threw her hands in the air, a rare expression of frustration.

“Mother!” came Draco’s muffled complaint.

“I was so nervous when I knew you’d been assigned to each other.  I wasn’t sure if you could bite your tongue.  But this seems like something else entirely,” Narcissa sighed.

“This has a lot less to do with who Harry Potter is and a lot more to do with who I am,” Draco mumbled.  He hadn’t taken the time to ponder whether or not it was really true before he said it.  He had already mostly come to terms with his homosexuality before getting involved with Potter, so it wasn’t that, really.  Draco had never really recovered from everything he’d done, but it wasn’t like he was unaware of it, so it’s not as if he was suddenly discovering he was a person of questionable moral standing.  If it wasn’t really about Draco, then, and it wasn’t really about Harry, what was it all about?

Draco shook his head, realizing he was running through the same useless questions as always (okay, “always” is a big word for a dilemma only lasting a few days, but it felt like forever).

“Well, I hope whatever it is, that you know you don’t have to go through it alone.” Narcissa smiled weakly, getting up from the bed.  Draco smiled back, nodding and curling deeper in the covers.  Right as he got comfortable, of course, the blasted bird returned with a letter.  Draco shot up to read it and Narcissa took her leave.

_ Come to my apartment in an hour _ , it read.  Draco groaned.  Potter was exceptionally impatient.  Tired of the back and forth, Draco opted not to reply, shooing the bird and slowly peeling himself from the bed.  As if Draco wasn’t going through enough dilemmas at the moment, he now had to decide what to wear.

 

Harry had tried his best to clean his apartment, but he really didn’t know what a nice, clean apartment should even look like.  He was saved, and also shot into a moment of terror, by the bell when it rang.  He ran over to the door before he could think about it any longer.

“Hi,” Harry said.

“Hello,” Draco said.

A moment passed uncomfortably.

“Do you want to come in?” Harry asked, stepping back.  Draco silently entered.  Another moment passed without a word.

“I went to your apartment,” Harry said suddenly.

“I was visiting the Manor,” Draco explained.  Harry nodded, but said nothing.  A moment of silence wrenched its way back in.

“Er, how’s your mum?” Harry asked.  Malfoy looked at him quizzically.

“What’s it to you?” he asked.  Harry smiled.  As least Malfoy was well enough to be snippy, though there was certainly a thinness to it, a weakness.

“I rather like her, actually.  Saved my life,” Harry noted.  Draco frowned.

“Yes, I’m aware.” Draco clearly felt uncomfortable remembering that entire time period.

“She’s fine, if you must know. Nosy as ever,” Draco added after a moment.

“Ah, glad to hear it,” Harry replied.

These awkward silences were so common that they almost felt natural.

“Well, if that’s all, I’m going home,” Draco frowned, turning on his heel toward the door.  Harry grabbed his arm, and Draco felt the warmth of his hand flutter through his veins and right to his heart.  Draco turned his head back.

“Draco, I want to talk,” Harry said.  ‘Draco’ still felt so weird to hear in that voice.

“Good for you, but you have to actually physically speak words in order to do that,” Draco chided.  Harry delicately dropped his grip on Malfoy’s arm.

“Sorry, I just… I guess I’m not really sure what exactly to say,” Harry admitted.  Draco groaned.

“What else is new,” Draco turned back, grumbling in monotone.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” Harry blurted out.  Draco froze, staring at the door, though he wasn’t really looking at it.  He wasn’t looking at anything.  

“Haven’t stopped thinking about you, since then,” Harry added. “That’s what’s new.”

Draco sighed, his breath coming out much shakier than he’d like to admit.   
“That’s… impossible.”

“What?” Harry spluttered.  When Draco turned to him to start his diatribe about how Harry was clearly suffering from some kind of stroke, he was quite disturbed to find him  _ laughing _ .

“What’s so funny?” Draco furrowed his brow.

“I had no idea what you’d say when I said that but… I never expected you to just deny it.  Who are you to say it’s impossible?  That’s like if I tell you I’m hungry and you say, ‘no, you’re not.’” Harry kept laughing, much to Draco’s chagrin.

“Well, I’m sorry you feel that way, but facts are facts, and the fact is that it makes no sense for us to go from enemies-”

“We weren’t enemies,” Harry interjected.

“To go from whatever we were to… to whatever this… whatever you think this is supposed to be.” Draco looked away, unwilling to look at Harry as he barely strung his sentence together.

“Maybe the bond did something, made it easier somehow, but it didn’t make this stuff out of thin air.  It wasn’t an invention, it was… a discovery, sort of.  A realization,” Harry suggested.

“That doesn’t matter now.” Draco looked at the floor, at his shoes, at anything but Harry.

“Maybe the feelings don’t, but… the actions do,” Harry said, blushing a bit at the memories.  

“It didn’t mean anything-” Draco began.

“It did to me, though,” Harry said, exasperated, “and I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep again if I don’t tell you that.”

Draco didn’t say anything.

“That it meant something to me,” Harry clarified.

“I know what you were talking about, did you think I’d lost track of what we’re talking about in the middle of your sentence?” Draco said, and it sounded so… tired.  The attempt at mocking was there, but the spirit was missing.

“I guess I’ll see you at work, then,” Harry said after a moment, turning away.

“No, Harry-” Draco interrupted suddenly, stepping forward.  Harry whipped his head around.  Draco didn’t finish, though, covering his face with his hands.

“Oh please don’t make me say it,” Draco said through them.  Harry stepped forward, closing the gap between them, and gently pulled Draco’s hands away.  Underneath, his eyes were shut tight.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Harry whispered, leaning towards him.  It felt oddly foreign being so close to Malfoy’s face, even though they’d been plenty close before.  He willed his heart to stop racing as he closed his eyes and pressed his lips against Malfoy’s.  Malfoy tensed up at first, but quickly relaxed under Harry’s touch, reciprocating the kiss.  Kissing without the bond felt different.  There certainly had been some sort of effect, Harry realized, to the point that kissing now felt a lot more like first kisses tend to feel: kind of scary, kind of exhilarating.  Even though Harry’s brain was alight with “what?” when he kissed Malfoy that very first time, it had felt oddly natural.   Now, Malfoy was clearly a little shaken too, as Harry fluttered his eyes for a moment and caught a glimpse of Malfoy with his eyes shot wide open.  Harry pulled away slightly.

“Why are your eyes open?” Harry whispered awkwardly.

“Probably because I’m kissing Harry Potter,” Draco whispered back.  Harry examined Draco’s face, not even noticing the fast pace of his own breathing.

“You look… different,” Harry observed.  “I mean, you look beautiful,” he clarified when Draco frowned a bit.

“Oh,” Draco said, but he didn’t seem to believe him.  He just seemed confused, which Harry certainly understood.

“I don’t regret any of it,” Harry said, absentmindedly brushing a strand of hair away from Malfoy’s face.

“I- Neither do I,” Draco replied nervously.  An awkward silence fell for a moment, like an old friend.

“Well, I suppose I regret the way I acted that last night,” Draco continued suddenly.

“What?  Draco, it’s okay, I was being pushy and- it’s fine if- you don’t have to want to…” Harry awkwardly blurted out.

“No, I mean- obviously I don’t have to, I just mean… I did.” Draco blushed.

“You… did?” Harry repeated, a little too flustered by being so close to Draco and the subject matter to track down exactly what he was referring to.

“I did…  _ want to _ ,” Draco explained, making that face one makes when you’re trying to say something without really saying it.  Harry smiled, feeling a fluttery feeling spread through his gut.

Before he had time to think about it any further, Harry pulled Draco into another kiss, more passionate than the first, and more joyful than any they’d had before.  It brought back that feeling of hope, not necessarily promise for the future- more just a hint at it.  It felt like an oxymoronic mix of unnatural and right, of confusing and perfectly sensical.  Harry was quite happy committing every intricate emotion of the moment to memory, but then Draco’s hands fumbled with his shirt buttons and instead every thought was knocked directly out of his head.  He didn’t really mean to moan when that happened, but he did, and he definitely  _ did  _ mean to run his hands over Draco’s chest in response.  

Draco’s nimble fingers made quick work of Harry’s buttons, pushing the shirt to the side as soon as the last button was undone.  

“Your skin,” Draco mumbled into the kiss.

“Yeah?” Harry replied, running his lips down to attack Draco’s neck.

“It’s so…  _ dark _ ,” Draco compared his thin, pale fingers against Harry’s tanned chest.

“Did you just notice?” Harry chuckled, but it suddenly dropped to a frown. “Oh god, you don’t have some like… weird racial fetish, do you?”

Draco smiled, wide and toothy, and it warmed Harry’s chest as Draco admired it.

“No, no… well, does it count as a fetish if the best part about it is whose skin it is?” Draco pondered aloud.  Harry smiled back, returning to his work on Draco’s neck.  He was so distracted in that task that he completely failed to stifle his gasp when Draco’s hands began to work on his trousers.  Harry realized he’d drawn the short end of the stick, failing to get Draco anywhere near a state of undress.  When he noticed his hands were shaking a bit, he decided he really didn’t care about undoing the ridiculous amount of buttons Draco was wearing, and he wandlessly Vanished Draco’s clothes instead.

“Okay, don’t get me wrong, that was incredibly hot, but that was also a six-hundred-galleon suit you just threw into the void,” Draco said plainly.  Harry chuckled, wrapping his arms around Draco’s now-bare torso.

“I can get it back.  Probably,” Harry smiled.  Draco almost had time to sulk before Harry dropped to his knees before him.

The kissing, the Vanishing, and the results of the Vanishing (in which Harry was slightly dishevelled while Draco was entirely exposed) had all had an effect on Draco, and now Harry was rubbing that effect all over his face.

“Fuck,” Draco thoughtfully commented, wishing desperately for some surface to grip onto.  None was available, though, so he settled for running a hand across Harry’s cheek.  Harry wanted to smile, but he fought it back so he could more easily slip the sensitive head inside his mouth.  Draco sighed, hoping to avoid showing too much of a response, but then Harry did this horribly filthy thing with his tongue and a hand that had found its way into that mess of hair suddenly gripped tightly, inadvertently pulling Harry back.   
“Was that bad?” Harry asked innocently.  Draco realized Harry had probably never done this before, and it sent him back through that emotional rollercoaster Harry was always putting him through with this ‘ _ I was waiting for the right person _ ’ junk.

“No, no, it’s good, fuck it’s good,” Draco hissed, wishing silently that he hadn’t been  _ that  _ effusive.

Harry smiled again, and slipped off his glasses, tossing them aside.  

“Do you always toss your,  _ ugh _ , your glasses around like that?” Draco asked, trying to keep steady as Harry took him into his mouth again.  Harry failed to respond, mouth a little preoccupied, though he did communicate in his own way by playfully flicking his tongue through the slit.  Draco shivered, fighting back a moan which came out as a choked squeal.  Harry slid further down, pushing the foreskin back with his lips.

“Harry,” Draco whispered, not entirely intentionally.  Harry hummed in reply, sending a vibration right through Draco’s cock and up his spine.  Harry brought one hand up and gently ran it along Draco’s lower back.  Draco took in a shaky breath, but let out a proper gasp when Harry’s fingers meekly ventured between his buttocks.  Harry looked up at him, as if asking permission, and Draco nodded fiercely.  Harry closed his eyes, taking Draco a bit further and reaching deeper, fingertips brushing the crinkled rim.  Draco watched Harry intently, though Harry wasn’t looking back, his eyes scrunching up a bit in determination.  Harry’s fingers wiggled a bit over the outer skin, but Harry seemed unsatisfied, and used his left hand to pull Draco’s cheek to the side.  A moment later, Harry’s fingertip just breached the opening, and Draco choked.  

“Oh, fuck, more,” Draco instinctively demanded.  Unsure whether he was referring to the finger or blowjob, Harry opted to force Draco’s cock further down and slip his finger in to the middle knuckle simultaneously.  Draco keened, his head falling back limply.  Harry fought back a smile, afraid to interrupt the clearly successful blowjob, and braced himself to take Draco deeper.  Harry was already achingly hard, but feeling Draco’s cock brush against his throat (and the sounds Draco made in response) sent shocking sensations through his arousal.  Harry delicately pulled his finger out to the tip, and pushed it back in again.

“Harry, oh God,” Draco whimpered, running his fingers desperately through the mess of hair.

Draco was so absorbed in the feeling that he wasn’t even sure what was happening when he felt a cold breeze on his cock.  Peeling open his eyes and looking down, he was unamused to see Harry had stopped sucking him, but then Harry brought two of his fingers to his mouth (including the one that had just been in Draco’s arse, fuck) and sucked them instead.  Harry’s eyes met Draco’s- so damn green, and giving the most clear expression of “I’m going to finger you” anyone had ever given without speaking (or using sign language, Draco supposed to himself).  

Harry pulled his fingers out of his mouth at an obscenely slow pace, and brought them back around to prod at Draco’s hole.  The fingers eased in at first, but after the first knuckle, they both felt resistance.  Suddenly, Harry stood up, with his fingers still inside, and kissed Draco.  Draco sighed into it, and Harry took the opportunity to push his fingers in further.  Draco gasped, his head falling into the crook of Harry’s neck.  It stung, but he was already close to the edge, and Harry was peppering light kisses on his ear and cheek to comfort him.  Draco nodded softly and Harry took the signal, pushing in a little deeper.  Draco whimpered into Harry’s neck, his hands finding their way to Harry’s bulge, which was unceremoniously sticking its way out from his undone fly.  Harry sighed, pushing his fingers in again (this time nearly all the way to the base) and unintentionally thrusting into Draco’s hands.  

“You’re so tight,” Harry whispered, moving his hand from its grip on Draco’s bum up to the back of his neck, delicately massaging it.  Draco smiled, slipping his hand under the waistband of Harry’s pants.  Harry bit his lip: his hands were  _ impossibly  _ soft, and were already earnestly gripping his length.

Finally, Harry sheathed his fingers all the way in, and the sound Draco made went directly to his cock, which was also conveniently squeezed by the slender fingers wrapped around it.

“Oh god, Harry, I need you inside me,” Draco sighed, planting a wet kiss on Harry’s neck.  Harry twisted his fingers, and the kiss became a bite.

“I am inside you,” Harry cheekily noted.

“I need your cock inside me,” Draco clarified, “please, Harry.”

Harry swallowed thickly.  Suddenly he felt like he’d been bested in the repartee, without Draco having even engaged in it. 

“Are you stretched enough?” Harry asked shakily.  Draco nodded, and Harry carefully pulled his fingers out.  As soon as they’d left him, Draco turned around, curving his back just enough to bare himself to Harry.  Harry drank in the sight for a moment, but found his remaining reserve of self-control enough to grab Draco’s hand and lead him to the bedroom.

Draco shoved Harry onto the mattress, pulling his jeans off as Harry removed his own shirt and tossed it aside.  Once Harry was (finally) undressed, Draco stood up over him and took a moment to bask in his nude glory.  His cock was hard and flushed, curving off the side a bit; His muscular stomach was rising and falling with his heavy breaths.  Draco ran his eyes all along Harry’s form similar to how one might observe a buffet or carnival- with the thought of where to start.

Draco opted to climb onto him, straddling his waist.  Harry’s expression went from slightly amused to dumbstruck.

“I’m going to ride you,” Draco announced.  

“God, yes.”  Harry started to close his eyes, but then he realized that would involve not seeing Draco’s slender, pale form climbing over him, and instead kept them wide open.  He Summoned some lube from the drawer, and handed it to Draco, who gave him the most filthy stare as he uncapped it and poured it on his hand.  They kept their staring contest going as Draco reached down and spread the lube over Harry’s dick, taking a quick moment to swipe the excess over his opening.  He guided himself over the length in his hand, and with a steadying breath, he started to sink down onto it.  Harry sighed like the wind had been knocked out of him, and Draco let his head fall back.  By the time Draco was halfway down, his skin was alight with electricity and there was a dull fuzziness in his brain.  He gripped Harry’s bicep a little too tightly to steady himself.   _ You don’t have to rush _ , Harry wanted to say to Draco, but just as he opened his mouth to speak Draco finished his slide to the hilt, and a broken groan came out instead.  Slowly, but with determination, Draco lifted himself with his thighs and let himself fall back down.

“How does it feel?” Draco heard Harry’s voice say through the haze.  Draco really wished he had the brain power to say something like  _ Alright, I guess  _ or  _ Do you honestly think I’d fake it for you?  _ or even a simple  _ Feels good _ , but instead, Draco spilled out the intimate, embarrassing truth.

“Feels like it was made for me,” he said.  It sent a shudder through Harry that had him instinctively tightening his grip on Draco’s hips.

Draco continued his slow ride, breathing heavily and digging his nails into Harry’s arm and shoulder.  Just as he was feeling comfortable enough to move faster, the head brushed against his prostate ever so softly, and he bit his lip a bit too hard.  He managed to move again in just the right way to make it happen again, hitting harder than the last time.  Draco grunted softly, bouncing on Harry’s cock faster and faster.

“God, Draco,” Harry said, in the sort of way that made the terms seem interchangeable.  Draco grinned, all toothy and devilish, and Harry was sure he was going to die watching such a beautiful creature spear himself on his dick like that.  Draco was so hard that his cock was barely moving even as he was riding up and down at a quickly-increasing pace.  Harry couldn’t decide if his reason for wrapping his hand around that gloriously red cock was to help Draco reach his climax, or just because he couldn’t resist grabbing it, but either way it’s what he did, and Draco gasped in response.  The cock in his hand and the hot vise around his own cock flexed together suddenly, and Harry had to force his eyes shut, unsure how much longer he could last if he was feeling  _ and  _ looking at Draco.

Draco was having a similar dilemma himself, and his eyes were already shut: Each time he rose on Harry’s length, he was thrusted up into his tight grip.  It was so much sensation at once that he was started to become less concerned with finishing first and more concerned with going into cardiac arrest.

“Harry, I’m close.” Draco barely managed to put the sentence together, his breaths coming hot and quickly.  A bit faster than either of them expected, strings of white cum shot out of Draco’s cock, painting Harry’s hand and chest.  Draco kept his diligent pace, groaning louder as each thrust abused his swollen prostate.  Harry watched enraptured, unsure how to psychologically justify the fact that Draco Malfoy was working himself tirelessly for Harry’s sake, especially in these circumstances.  Harry’s orgasm tore through him suddenly, and he wasn’t all too proud of the stuttering moan it elicited from him.  Draco stopped moving, slumped groggily, and delicately rolled off, sprawled out on his back next to Harry.  They lay next to each other in silence, staring at the ceiling, their breathing slowly stabilizing, the room getting stiller and quieter with each passing moment.

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” Harry whispered.  The silence that followed was tortuous, but Harry still felt relieved saying it.  When Draco sighed, he was sure some sort of half-hearted insult, or at least a  _ What the fuck, Potter _ was imminent.

“I _ know _ I’m falling in love with you,” Draco said instead.  Harry couldn’t have stopped the smile from rising to his face if his life had depended on it.

 

 

Epilogue

 

“Welcome, everyone, to our first annual Auror Department Quidditch Match!” Kingsley’s voice boomed with his amplifying charm.  The crowd, comprised of all the other Aurors and their friends and family, cheered.

“It is my hope,” he continued, “that this match will foster a spirit of healthy competition in our stellar Auror Department, as well as boost morale…”

Harry and Draco looked at each other at the same time, biting back laughter.

“Some things never change,” Draco said with sarcastic wistfulness.

“How does it feel wearing red?” Harry asked playfully, looking over Draco’s uniform.  Draco just rolled his eyes.

“I can almost survive the colour,” Draco grumbled, “I just wish my uniform actually  _ fit _ .”  

Harry, on the other hand, rather appreciated that Draco’s uniform was too short, leaving his hips on display.

“Now,” came Kingsley’s voice again, “please give it up for our first team!”  

Draco waved as he left the locker area with his teammates.  Harry waved back, watching them enter the field through the entryway.  He could see Draco relishing in the applause a bit.  The crowd was a lot smaller than they had back at Hogwarts, but this time, there weren’t any boos for Draco’s team.

Kingsley introduced each team member, and Harry felt his heart flutter when he heard, “and seeking for the team…”

The crowd cheered before Kingsley even said who it was.  Seekers were always a crowd favorite.

“Drrrraco Malfoy!”

The crowd erupted and Draco egged them on.  Harry smiled to himself.   _ What a ham. _

“And now, put your hands together for our challengers!” Kingsley boomed, and Harry was herded out of the entryway by their captain.  The echoing cheers vibrated through Harry’s chest, and he couldn’t fight the beaming smile rising to his lips.  He glanced back to Draco, who was waiting on the sidelines with his team, and found Draco was already looking at him.  Harry had become accustomed to that smile he was wearing, it was his “that’s  _ my  _ ridiculous idiot” smile.

Kingsley introduced his teammates, and once he reached Harry, the cheers started before he could even finish “and now”.  Harry only barely made out his own name.

“Go Harry!” A deep voice came from the stands nearby.  He looked over to see Ron and Hermione in the stands, and- oh God they were pulling out a banner.  Harry turned bright red, but shot them a half-hearted thumbs up.

The other team lined up across from them, and Harry and Draco stood face to face.

“I want a fair, friendly game, alright?” The ref instructed as he stood between them.

“Scared, Potter?” Draco murmured.  Harry smiled.

“Mostly that the crushing defeat you’re about to face will tear our relationship apart,” Harry rebutted.  Draco laughed, shaking his head.

“Wanna make a bet?” Draco offered with a glint in his eye.

“I think you already know the answer to that,” Harry pointed out.  Draco looked around to make sure the ref wasn’t paying too much attention, and leaned into Harry’s ear.

Draco’s whispered proposition made Harry’s throat a little dry, and his pants a little tighter.

“You’re on,” Harry whispered back.

I won’t tell you what the bet was, though.  That’s a secret best left between husbands.

“Players, ready!” The ref shouted, and they got into position.

Harry looked down at his hand, twirling the band on his finger.  His own was inscribed with  _ amor sicut circulus _ .  He looked up to Draco at the other end of the field, who was also twirling his ring, and Harry looked down to see the inscription shift, charmed to change when Draco touched his own ring:  _ sine initio et fine. _

“Now,” Kingsley boomed, and Harry looked up, “let the match begin!”

Harry and Draco’s gazes met, but they changed their focus when the snitch zoomed right between them.  And in a split second, they were flying, higher and higher, into the flowing expanse of the sky, above the world.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you everyone for bearing with me through this! if you made it this far I'm going to assume you enjoyed it, and if you enjoyed it, please please leave kudos and/or a comment! you can always go follow me on tumblr @prettyboydracomalfoy as well, thank you again i love you all ok bye


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